


Lost Heroes

by Silence_Will_Fall201



Series: World Undead [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, BAMF Stiles, Character Death, Drunk Stiles Stilinski, F/M, He's weirdly calm about the situation, Killer Stiles Stilinski, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Post Season 6, Post canon, Scott McCall is a good leader, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Stiles Stilinski Has a Bad Day, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a good leader, Stiles Stilinski-centric, Stiles scares everyone, The Walking Dead Inspired, The main group from the show is around 20 years old, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-09-06 14:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 71,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20292925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_Will_Fall201/pseuds/Silence_Will_Fall201
Summary: The one thing Stiles doesn't want to be real just ends up being real.He's at college when it happens, and he's way too far away from home to deal with the zombie apocalypse. Way too far. Teaming up with a group of survivors around the Washington DC area, Stiles takes the situation one moment at a time, trying his best to stay ahead of the game.He has two goals, and two goals only.Survive.Get back to Beacon Hills.





	1. The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new TW fic! If you read some of my others, I haven't forgotten about Reciprocity, but that one's on really slow updates. With this fic, I'm several chapters ahead of posting, and I will be posting a new chapter once a week, every Sunday (My time), so look out for those and make sure to subscribe to get updates!
> 
> I'm so looking forward to how this fic turns out, I've been working on it non-stop for a while, and it's a project that I quickly fell in love with. I haven't felt this way about a fic for quite some time.
> 
> Each chapter's a bit on the shorter side than what I usually do, as I've begun writing all my fics in Apple Pages so I can keep track of them all in one spot. Each chapter is between 2-5 thousand words long, and I plan to keep it that way.
> 
> As for chapters, I'm aiming to have between 20 and 40 chapters, but I haven't even gotten halfway through the actual fic itself to figure out a chapter-by-chapter plan. There's just so much I want to put into this, and I really need to pace myself because I have a habit of speeding through the boring bits to get to the good stuff. Anyway, here it is!

It was nearing the end of semester when it started. Stiles was walking back to his dorm after a class on national security when he heard screaming. Suddenly sirens sounded close to the university and Stiles saw a convoy of police speed past down the main road. Confused, Stiles shrugged it off and went to walk back to his dorm, but what blocked his path was the one thing he didn’t want to be real. The _one_ thing.

One of his classmates, Callie, was on the ground screaming as a one-armed person - no, thing - tore into her with its fingers and teeth. Stiles took several steps back and took off into a run as soon as the thing looked up at Stiles, blood surrounding its mouth and eyes a milky white. It was a zombie, no other explanation was applicable, and Stiles soon figured out that he was screwed. He took off up the stairs, trying to outrun the zombie that was stumbling after him, snarling and groaning.

He heard more screaming from upstairs and Stiles just hoped he would survive the afternoon. He made it to his floor and hesitated, watching as fellow students were overrun with a hoard of zombies. Stiles was lucky the zombies were distracted, so he was able to get to his room without incident. He burst inside, happy to see his roommate inside with headphones on, and quickly closed the door, locking it just in case.

His roommate, David Yen looked at him with narrow eyes. Stiles’ frantic expression and desperation wasn’t lost on him and he pulled off his headphones. He watched as Stiles pulled a duffel bag from under his bed and grabbed an armful of clothes, stuffing it inside. He also grabbed a baseball bat from the end of his bed and left in on his bed as he looked around for his gun. He wasn’t supposed to have it on campus, but with what he had been through, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“What’s going on?” David asked.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving.” Stiles told him, finding his gun and a knife under his bed, as well as a holster for his gun. He strapped the holster on and slotted his gun inside, placing the knife carefully next to it.

“I can’t, man, I’ve got an exam tomorrow.” David shrugged.

“Dude, look outside. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what’s happening.” Stiles said. David sighed and did as Stiles asked, wheeling himself over to the window to observe the chaos.

“What the hell is happening?” David asked as he watched a zombie tackle a lecturer to the ground and take a chunk out of his leg.

“Zombies, man.” Stiles patted him on the shoulder. “Get your stuff, we’re leaving.”

“We can’t go outside, we’ll die!” David exclaimed.

“Well we’re as good as dead in here, so take your pick.” Stiles shrugged. “I’d rather take my chances out there than wait to die locked in my dorm room. I need to find out if my dad and my friends are okay.” David looked conflicted, but eventually nodded and went to pack his stuff. “Pack light!” Stiles called from the bathroom as he stuffed a few rolls of toilet paper in his bag.

David didn’t take that advice seriously and pulled out a suitcase. Stiles came back out and shook his head, pointing to the gym bag lying at the end of David’s bed. David grunted and started packing that instead.

“Do you have a weapon I can use? You seem pretty stocked up for a college student.” David asked. Stiles froze suddenly before nodding as he remembered a spare army knife that was taped under his bed frame near the head. Stiles pulled it out and gave it to David.

“We’ll find you a crowbar or something when we can.” Stiles told him. “Could be useful.” David nodded and shakily held the knife.

“Why did you have a knife taped to your bed?” David asked. Stiles gave him a look.

“Why don’t you?” He replied. David took it as Stiles not wanting to talk and let it be. “If we can get downstairs, we can hot wire a car to get us out of here.” Stiles mused aloud. “Do you have family you want to see?” He asked suddenly. David stopped and pondered the question.

“You want to go back to California right?” David asked, and Stiles nodded. “Maybe we can take a stop in Oklahoma. I’d like to know if my mom and dad are okay.” Stiles gave David a comforting smile.

“Alright, I think I’m done.” Stiles pulled the duffel bag over his shoulder and picked up his bat, taking an experimental swing. David zipped up his own bag and pulled it across his shoulders. “Ready to brave it?” He asked. David gulped but nodded.

Stiles counted down from three before tearing open the door, the two young adults coming face to face with over a dozen zombies. Stiles immediately took his bat and clobbered the head of the closest one with surprising strength, the skull cracking open immediately and pieces of brain and blood spurting out. The zombie fell to the ground and still let out a smirk as the adrenaline hit him. David stood shell shocked next to him as the zombies advanced and Stiles shoved him forward towards the stairs.

“What the hell!” David hissed as he jogged quickly down the stairs, Stiles following.

“Come on, we have to make it to the cars.” Stiles rushed. They came out on the ground floor and burst outside, a hoard of zombies trailing them, some losing their limbs as they fell down the stairs after the two. Stiles pulled David along and stopped every so often to swing his bat over the head of a nearby zombie. They made it to an older four door truck and Stiles smashed the window with his bat, cringing as the alarm went off, bringing all the nearby zombies to attention. “Shit.” Stiles cursed. “Get in!”

David got in to the passenger side while Stiles slid into the drivers side, immediately looking under the seat for the correct wires to use. David looked around the car and opened the glove box, relieved to see a set of keys sitting inside.

“Stiles!” David hissed and handed him the keys.

“Saved me some work.” Stiles grinned and started the ignition, the alarm thankfully powering down. The zombies suddenly got closer to the car, one of them clawing at the open window where David was trying to push it out. Stiles saw this and floored the accelerator, the two taking off in a screech.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief and whoop as they drove away from the university. David was scared but allowed himself to relax for a moment. Stiles took a detour from the turn to get onto the highway and pulled into a strip mall.

“What are we doing here?” David frowned.

“We need to stock up on food and water. There’s things we don’t have which we need, and luckily it seems most of the zombies have congregated around the centre of the city, so we might only run into one or two.” Stiles explained. David nodded and got out of the car with Stiles, who had his hand on his holster as they walked up to a convenience store.

They walked inside and looked around quickly, skimming the area for any threats. Once confident that they weren’t in immediate danger, Stiles picked up a shopping basket and handed it to David, picking up another for himself.

“What’s this for?” David frowned.

“Get as much as possible.” Stiles instructed. “Go for stuff that won’t go off quickly, so anything canned.” David nodded and moved over to an aisle while Stiles moved over to the next.

They gathered as much food and bottled water they could, Stiles even picking up a crowbar and a shotgun from behind the register desk, as well as the accompanying box of shells. They went to leave when they heard a click from behind. Stiles turned on his heel slowly while David dropped his basket and the crowbar to turn quickly. They were faced with a young woman, likely around their age or slightly younger, with dark auburn hair and caramel brown eyes, pale skin that was extremely freckled. Stiles quickly noted her small stature, but also the pump action shotgun in her hands, likely an RMB-93, while the shotgun Stiles had picked up was an Harrington and Richardson Pardner Pump Compact.

“Hey, we don’t want to hurt you we’re just trying to stock up.” Stiles gestured vaguely to his basket and David’s.

“Your friend’s a little shaky.” She commented.

“You would be too if your friend just dragged you into the middle of a zombie apocalypse.” David replied with a stutter.

“Hey, we’ve got room and you’re alone.” Stiles slowly put his basket and the shotgun down, raising his hands. “You can come with us.”

“You think you can survive this?” She asked with a hiss. Stiles shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try.” He told her. “My name’s Stiles, this is David.” She kept her gun up. “look, we can’t work this out unless you give us something.” She frowned but nodded, lowering her gun.

“Carson.” She told him. Stiles nodded and picked his basket and the shotgun up again, gesturing for David to pick up his own basket and the crowbar.

“We can keep you alive.” Stiles told Carson as he walked out of the store and over to the truck, putting the baskets in the back with his and David’s bags. Carson pulled a backpack off her back and stuffed it in with the rest.

“For now.” Carson told him, sliding into the backseat as Stiles and David got into the front.

They drove down the highway in silence, seeing several cars doing the same thing. David was shaking in the seat next to Stiles, clearly in shock, while Carson was staring out the window, watching the houses and trees go by. Stiles kept staring in the rearview mirror as they left the city behind them, taking the 66 out of the city. Luckily Oklahoma was one of the states their intended route passed through, so they’d be able to take a pit stop to check David’s family.

They didn’t get very far down the road when they hit a block of abandoned cars. Stiles rolled the truck to a stop and grunted in annoyance. David frowned while Carson tensed. The other cars full of people they’d seen had stopped as well, some having left their cars.

“Idiots.” Carson mumbled. Stiles shook his head but left the car. “What the hell are you doing?” Carson called to him.

“We’re not going to get the car through this, but we can walk and find another car on the other side.” Stiles ducked his head back into the car. “Come on.” He walked to the trunk and opened it, seeing the baskets full of stuff. “We need to pack these into our bags or we’ll be carrying around baskets.” Stiles said as David and Carson joined him. They both exchanged glances but began stuffing whatever they could into their bags.

Soon, the three were walking over to the other group of survivors with their bags fall. Among the survivors were parents and young children, teenagers and grandparents. It wasn’t a large group, but it was sizeable. They came together near one of the cars where they had dropped all their resources, Stiles, David and Carson doing the same.

“Well then…” And old man sighed. “I didn’t think I’d live this long.” He held the arm of an old woman next to him, presumably his wife, while a teenage girl huddled into the woman’s side.

“Hi there.” Stiles greeted with a nod. “I’m Stiles, this is David and Carson.” He introduced.

“Oh!” The man smiled at them in a warm greeting. “My name’s Ross, this is my wife Alice and our granddaughter Julia.” Alice and Julia both carried a tight smile.

“Can we just move the cars?” A blonde who was wearing way too much makeup and the wrong kind of clothing for an apocalypse whined.

“Hailey, please be reasonable.” An older man next to her, likely her father, placed a hand over his forehead.

“Stiles…” David shoved Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles looked at what David was staring at. Up ahead, about to move into the sea of cars, was a hoard of zombies heading straight for them. Stiles’ eyes went wide and he moved in front of the group of survivors.

“Everyone you need to get cover now!” He said in a commanding tone. Everyone looked past him to see the hoard. A young boy let out a whimper and buried his face into his mother’s side. “Get into a car, under a car, just get somewhere relatively safe.” Stiles told them as he ushered a small group into a minivan, and the mother and child under a low truck. “Keep quiet and don’t come out until you hear me.” He said. David and Carson both ducked into the minivan with the group while Stiles ushered the rest of the survivors around. He made sure Ross, Alice and Julia were safe in a small truck like the one he had arrived in, getting them to get as low as possible, while he himself ducked into the trunk of the one he’d arrived in, keeping the door open enough for him to see.

Everything was silent besides the sounds of the undead. Their sliding feet and groaning tones passed by the group as everyone was as silent as possible. Stiles watched from the trunk as the zombies passed, they walked slow and it seemed to take at least half an hour, but they were gone without an incident. Stiles waited until they were quite a ways down the highway until he leapt out of the trunk and went to retrieve everyone.

Once everyone was back out into the open and in their group, they all chatted amongst themselves, most of them scared and wanting it to all be a dream. Stiles, David, Carson and Hailey’s father began searching through the cars for any extra supplies they might need. Hailey’s father, Henry, had found a small stash of drugs, including antibiotics, which Stiles gratefully took to place with the group’s stash. It was all going well, with David finding an extra weapon with a box of ammo, and Carson finding a box of female sanitary items, when they heard a scream.

Stiles ran over to the group where they were all trying to get a zombie off of Alice, who had already been bitten. Stiles quickly went into action and pulled Julia and Ross away, much to their protests.

“We can’t leave her!” Julia exclaimed with tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles said. He pulled his knife from his holster and quickly approached the zombie. The zombie looked up with a grunt and immediately tried to lunge at Stiles. Stiles grabbed the zombie by the shoulder and thrust his knife into its head. The zombie let out a gurgle and Stiles let it drop to the ground. He walked over to Alice, who was whimpering as she put her shaky hands over the wound on her arm. Stiles knelt down next to her.

“I’m-Going to be like-like them…” She muttered and Stiles could only nod. “Then end it.” She said with as much courage as she could muster.

“No!” Ross and Julia let out a cry in unison. Stiles gave them a look of sympathy, then back down to Alice.

“I’m so sorry.” Stiles told her, a sad smile on his face as he tried his best to rationalise what he was about to do. Stiles pulled his knife up to show Alice, and she nodded.

“Make it quick.” She whispered, letting out a cry as she shifted her arm.

Stiles let out a shaky breath before plunging his knife into Alice’s forehead, right between the eyes.


	2. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivors begin to work together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said once a week uploads, but Row in the comments the other day convinced me to do a twice a week upload...so yeah. it might be like that sometimes. Every Saturday/sunday (Depending on where you are) is the definite upload, then sometimes in the middle of the week I'll upload again.
> 
> This chapter deals with some logistics surrounding how the apocalypse is the worst time in the world to have a baby (Lori Grimes, Maggie Rhee 👀), therefore Stiles is prepared.

The group had decided to stick together, all of them agreeing that there were pros and con about being a large number, but ultimately the pros outweighed the cons. The group consisted of Stiles, who everyone had appointed the ‘unofficial’ leader, David, Carson, Ross, Julia, Hailey, Henry, Andrea, who was the mother of the only young child, her husband Samuel, and their son Tyler. Everyone else who had been at the highway had moved on in their own groups.

They all had places they wanted to go, so Stiles suggested they’d keep to the highway for the time being and set up camp where they could. Everyone grabbed their bags and found a car to be in. Stiles, David, Carson, Ross and Julia travelled in a grey sedan while Henry, Hailey, Andrea, Samuel and Tyler travelled in the minivan. They needed to keep the amount of vehicles to a minimum as they were travelling, but they were lucky they had enough space to put all the bags.

Stiles took the lead, driving down the highway at a faster speed than normal. He didn’t want to use up all the gas in the tank, but had no choice as they needed to get away from the densely populated area. He went slow enough, though, that the minivan could keep up.

Road-trip conversation in the sedan was bleak and Carson seemed disinterested as Julia tried to engage in conversation with the other girl. Ross was chatting with David, while Stiles was focused on the road. They occasionally passed a small group of zombies, who turned to attention at the sounds of the vehicles, but the groups were fast enough to not worry.

“Why are you so calm?” David asked Stiles not long into their journey. Stiles faltered, but kept the car steady.

“What do you mean?” Stiles replied. The car had since gone silent, all occupants eager to know the answer to David’s question.

“You seem way too prepared for a zombie apocalypse, and you almost seem…happy.” David frowned.

“You didn’t really hesitate back there…” Julia added, leaving the end of the sentence unsaid, but everyone knew she was referring to Alice. “You just…killed her.” She muttered. Stiles bit his lip.

“I’ve seen some shit, okay.” Stiles responded without going into detail.

“What kind of shit?” Carson questioned with narrow eyes.

“The kind of shit you don’t talk about.” Stiles replied, eying the girl through the rear view mirror.

They mostly drove in silence from then on. It wasn’t until the sun was starting to get low, that Stiles pulled over, the minivan coming to a stop not long after. The groups left their vehicles and grabbed their bags, all of them realising they had to stop for the night. Stiles grabbed his shotgun and his bat and watched as everyone grabbed their respective weapons, or none at all. Stiles tapped Carson and Henry on the shoulders as he gestured to a house that was located not far off the highway.

“We’re going to clear that house.” Stiles told them. He turned back to the main group. “The rest of you stay in the van.” He watched as they all moved to do as he asked. “Let’s go.” Stiles, Carson and Henry readied their weapons, their shotguns slung over their shoulders as a last resort. Stiles readied his bat, while Carson had grabbed the crowbar off David and Henry held another bat that was clearly used.

The three moved in a tight formation, Stiles at the front while Henry and Carson took the back. They moved quickly and slowly as they cleared out the bottom floor of the house. They came to the kitchen when they heard the shuffling and groaning. Stiles tapped Carson on the shoulder and let her take the lead, switching spots with her. They moved slowly into the kitchen and Carson swung the crowbar over the head of the zombie that was moving around the tiles. The zombie went down with a sickening squish and crack, before Carson pulled the crowbar out of its head.

Once the bottom floor was clear, they moved upstairs and did the same formation, Stiles back at the front of the group. They moved into a bedroom where a zombie with legs that had been torn off, crawled across the floor. Stiles took his bat to it, and the zombie was dead. They moved through the rest of the house, only coming across one other zombie, though it was a more difficult kill. They broke formation and stared at the young girl with pale skin and a broken leg that dragged behind as she walked. Henry sucked in a breath while Carson let out a whimper. Stiles looked at the undead girl, then back at his group.

“It has to be done.” Stiles muttered. He exchanged his bat for the crowbar Carson was holding and quickly took the sharp end to the zombie’s head. The little girl went down with a last gurgle and hiss, and Stiles pulled the crowbar away with shaking hands. Carson put her hand over Stiles’ that held the crowbar and gave him his bat back.

“Let’s drag them outside so Tyler isn’t scared while we’re staying here.” Henry suggested.

“Good idea.” Stiles nodded.

The three pulled all three bodies, and remaining body parts, outside and piled them in a corner near the back of the fenced in property. They then pulled the back door shut and locked it before going back out to the rest of their people, who were waiting in the van as Stiles said.

“It’s clear.” Stiles told them, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans.

The group piled inside and locked the front door behind him. David and Carson soon took to hammering wood planks over the doors and closing all the curtains, Julia joining them as Stiles, Henry and Andrea rationed out the food they did have so everyone in the group would be able to eat for the night. Everyone was given a small portion of canned corn, a piece of bread from a loaf Andrea had packed, and an energy bar from a stash that Hailey had reluctantly handed over. In addition, one of the several bottles of water Stiles had packed was used to quench the thirst of all ten members of their group. It wasn’t much, but they needed to keep enough food for several days.

“In the morning, we’ll drive west.” Stiles spoke up from his spot in the back of the living room where they had taken to staying. “David wants to go to Oklahoma to see if his family made it, while I need to get to my home town in California just to see if my friends and my dad made it. I need to know now if anyone wants to go anywhere.” Stiles looked around at everyone’s faces, and their silence. “If there’s any family you want to see…” He trailed off.

“Julia’s the only family I have left.” Ross spoke up, his arm around his granddaughter. “If you can get us somewhere safe, I’ll follow you to California.” Stiles nodded.

“We only have each other.” Henry added. “My wife died ten years ago and my parents abandoned me in an orphanage.” Hailey stiffened next to him.

“If my dad died during all of this, I wouldn’t be sorry.” Carson said with crossed arms. “The abusive asshole deserves it.” Stiles frowned but looked to Andrea and Samuel.

“I’d like to see my mother in Missouri.” Samuel said. “I know she probably didn’t make it, but…I just want to know.” Stiles nodded in response.

“Alright. Missouri, then Oklahoma, then California.” He sighed. “We’ve got a big journey, so everyone better get some sleep.”

“Should we keep watch in shifts?” Carson asked. Stiles thought for a moment but nodded. “I’ll take first watch then.”

“I’ll take second.” Stiles said.

“Third.” Henry spoke up.

“Alright then. Everyone get some sleep.” Stiles repeated.

* * *

The night went smoothly and everyone managed to get a few hours sleep each. Once everyone had woken up, Henry, who had last watch, had made everyone breakfast, making sure to keep with the rations, and everyone ate happily. It was nice to be able to be sheltered, and the group took it in stride. It had only been a few days since the world went to hell, only one day since Stiles had realised, but Stiles thought he was doing pretty good with the group he had.

“Do phones work?” Hailey asked as she pulled hers out.

“I think the phone lines are down.” Stiles replied. “Games should work, though, but don’t use up all your battery just in case.” Stiles looked around the living room. “That goes for everyone.” Hailey seemed annoyed, but tapped away at a mindless game.

“Hey, Stiles!” Henry pulled Stiles aside into the kitchen.

“What’s up?”

“I was thinking that we spend one more night here. Get our shit together, you know.” Henry shrugged. Stiles frowned and looked past Henry into the living room. “We could send someone out hunting.”

“With what? A knife?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “We can stay for one more night, but tomorrow we have to start moving if we want to get to Missouri.”

“Thank you.” Henry smiled and clapped Stiles on the shoulder before walking back into the living room.

Stiles hovered in the doorway and looked around at the group of people in front of him. Every single one was vulnerable, and every single one needed Stiles. Stiles wasn’t an expert, or an incredibly capable fighter, but he had experience dealing with monsters that for all intents and purposes should’ve been fictional, and he had enough blood on his hands to not care how much more her got. They needed him, and he wasn’t going to let them down.

Carson walked over to Stiles and leant against the opposite side of the doorway, her eyes fixed onto Stiles’ tense posture. She herself was tense, but was slowly relaxing around the group of people she had decided to travel with. She had her opinions on all of them, and every single one seemed to be trustworthy, but Stiles was hiding more than most and she was determined to find out.

“Henry says we’re staying another day.” She stated. Stiles just nodded without saying a word. “I was thinking of making a run into a store that’s a straight shot off the other side of the highway.” She added. Stiles looked at her and frowned.

“Don’t go alone.” He told her.

“I won’t.” She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow. “I don’t want to take David because he’ll freeze. You’re the most capable guy here, so you should come with me.”

“Someone needs to be here with them…in case.” He frowned.

“Henry’s got it. He’s a grown man, and he’s more than capable of handling himself. I heard he was in the army.” Carson shrugged. Stiles pondered the decision and looked to the floor, his eyes tracing the grain of the wood.

“Alright, but we’ll have to make it quick.” Stiles agreed. Carson gave him a smile and went to grab her backpack. Stiles walked into the living room to face their group, eyeing Henry as he stopped. “Carson and I are going to a store on the other side of the highway. While we’re gone, Henry’s in charge.” Stiles stated, giving a nod to Henry.

“When will you be back?” Andrea asked.

“We won’t be longer than two hours.” Carson replied, handing Stiles his baseball bat and a shotgun. She slung her own shotgun over her shoulder and readied the crowbar. Stiles did the same with his gun, and slotted the bat through the loop of the sling.

After leaving, Carson led the way under the highway and over to road just next to it. They walked in silence down the straight road, making sure to keep their footsteps lights so they wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Stiles was keeping a keen eye out for any threats, while Carson was adjusting her bag.

“Now would be the time for you to tell me what ‘shit’ you’ve seen.” Carson said as they treaded down the road.

“No offence, but I’ve known you for a day.” Stiles shook his head. “Not exactly the situation where I unload everything onto you.”

“Have you killed anyone before Alice?” Carson asked as they came upon a hunting store, which was perfect as they needed more weapons. Stiles didn’t answer and they walked inside.

Stiles grabbed a duffel bag from the floor and begun loading guns and ammo into it. Carson found a crossbow and some arrows, which she grabbed along with cleaning supplies for the weapons. Stiles also grabbed some hunting boots, several bullet proof vests, a map of both the area, and the country, and a roll of duct tape.

“I saw a pharmacy next door.” Stiles spoke up once they were done. “We’ll need some extra stuff.” Carson nodded and the two left the hunting store to go to the pharmacy.

“You didn’t answer me then either.” Carson said, lingering at the doorway to the pharmacy as Stiles walked inside. Stiles gave her a look as he walked over to the section behind the counter.

“Yes I’ve killed before.” Stiles told her with a sigh. “I’m not proud of it.” He added. Carson frowned but nodded as she gathered more feminine hygiene products.

“How?” She asked. Stiles barked a laugh and shook his head.

“Nope, you don’t get that explanation.” He walked over to an aisle to grab several things for ‘just in case’ situations. That included condoms, a few packs of pregnancy tests and abortion pills, something he wasn’t very comfortable in holding, but he figured it was for the best.

“What are those for?” Carson narrowed her eyes at Stiles’ load.

“Please, I’ve seen The Walking Dead. You don’t really want people contracting STDs or having a baby during an apocalypse, so if it’s avoidable, I’d really prefer to keep it that way.” Stiles told her. “Babies just complicate things…” He added. Carson sighed and continued her own load.

They were about to leave when they heard snarling from behind them. They turned quickly were faced with a small group of zombies, about six of them. Carson immediately reading an arrow to shoot at the closes one. Stiles took his knife out and rushed one of the zombies, tackling it to the ground with a knife in its head. He jumped up and took the next one as Carson fired off arrows into the heads of others.

Quite soon, they were both panting and the zombies were all down. Carson walked around the collect the arrows she shot while Stiles made sure all of them had been hit in the right spot. Once they were confident, the two left the store and began the walk back to the house. Once again, the walk was taken in silence, but Carson wanted to ask Stiles more things about his past. Nobody had really given each other much about their lives, as everyone was practically a stranger besides family and David for Stiles.

“What?” Stiles sighed as he noticed Carson’s hesitation.

“You’re not an escaped prisoner or something, right?” She asked. “Because if you’ve killed before, I’d like to know if you’re unstable or whatnot.” Stiles shook his head.

“I’ve never been to prison.” He assured her. “I may have done a stint in a mental hospital, but it wasn’t what I needed at the time.” He shrugged. “I’m okay.” Carson frowned, clearly not convinced.

“Does that mean you’ve never been caught, or it wasn’t worthy of a prison sentence?” She asked, and Stiles thought the question over. Technically, Donovan wouldn’t have been enough to get Stiles in prison, but Stiles threw that out the window when he hid it from everyone. The people who had died under the Nogitsune probably could’ve contributed to a prison sentence, considering it was Stiles’ face the demon used.

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that question.” Stiles told Carson instead.

“You’re not giving me much confidence, Stiles.” She huffed.

“What can I tell you?” Stiles asked with an amused smirk.

They made their way into the house not long before midday, where Henry and David were serving the group some beans and corn. The air inside the house was lively, and everyone was engaged in conversation. Hailey and Julia were chatting excitedly in one corner with Tyler sitting on the edge of the conversation, while Ross engaged in a discussion with Samuel and Andrea.

“Welcome back.” Henry smiled and handed Stiles a bowl while David did the same to Carson. Stiles and Carson took their seats with the group, Henry and David joining them.

For just that one moment, everything was okay.


	3. Reality Hits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivors encounter a problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pro tip: Don't get attached

They set out early the next morning after getting themselves as clean as possible. Stiles had trouble shaving without access to what he needed, and soon found he had more cuts than normal, while Henry and Samuel decided not to. Andrea and Hailey had complained about the lack of showers and soap, making their hair greasy and their bodies to smell, but everyone was in the same boat. Stiles’ own hair looked practically black from the grease of several days without a wash.

They set onto the road not long after, Stiles in the sedan with the same group he arrived to the house with, while Henry drove the van with the rest. The trip was met with small chatter but general silence, David conversing with Ross in the backseat, while Carson took shotgun to avoid Julia, who had quickly made friends with Hailey - who most people didn’t like. Stiles focused on the road while Carson directed him where to go using the maps they had acquired. She marked off the landmarks she noticed on the map, so they wouldn’t get lost.

They turned off the 66, and onto the 81, travelling for a short distance before turning onto the 55, where they continued. Occasionally they passed groups of abandoned cars, and there were zombies roaming the area, but they didn’t slow down as they drove, not wanting to get caught up. Eventually they reached a blockage in the highway, and exited off to get around.

“Might be best to not take the highways for now.” Stiles suggested. “There’ll be more blockages as we get closer to the cities.” He glanced at the map, where Carson had marked that they were close to Columbus, Ohio, having driven for close to five hours at that point. They wanted to avoid the big cities though, but they needed to use Columbus as a map marker to get their bearings.

The occupants of the car mumbled agreements, and Stiles looked through the rear view mirror to see Ross asleep with his head against the window. He also noticed that the minivan had slowed to a stop behind them, so he turned the car around and pulled to a stop in front of the van.

“What’s going on?” David asked, looking back through the back window.

“Stay in the car.” Stiles instructed. He got out and walked over to the minivan, his hand on the holster for his gun as he approached. Henry got out from the drivers side and let out an exasperated sigh.

“We’re running on fumes.” He stated. Stiles let out a groan but nodded.

“Alright, we’ll leave the cars here and go down there,” Stiles pointed to where he saw the sign for a Speedway gas station. They were just off the main highway, and driving down a side street near the beginning of Athens County, Ohio. They were sitting ducks without gas.

“All of us?” Henry asked.

“Safety in numbers.” Stiles supplied, though he himself didn’t sound sure. Henry conceded and soon everyone was out of the cars and walking around the corner to the small county strip. “Every stick together, and make sure you stay as quiet as you possibly can.” Stiles whispered.

They moved as a group along the road, surprised at the lack of zombies crowding the area. They came upon the gas station, and Stiles grabbed a jerry can, Henry doing the same, to fill up on gas so they could take it back to the cars. They needed enough to last for a while, so they filled up as much as they could.

Carson was on watch, her back to the station as she stood watching out over the street, crossbow at the ready. Henry and Stiles filled up the jerry cans on the same pump, but on opposite sides, while David and the rest went inside the station to see if they could find anything worthwhile.

“You seem pretty equipped to deal with all this.” Henry spoke up, looking at Stiles. Stiles scoffed and looked away briefly.

“Yeah, well…I’ve dealt with way too much, so why not add zombies to the list?” He shrugged with a chuckle. Henry laughed and nodded.

“I think I get what you mean.” He said, “I’ve seen too much death in my time.”

“You were a soldier, right?” Stiles asked. Henry nodded and his eyes seemed to glass over at the mere mention.

“It seems so far away now.” He admitted. “It was during my youth, so Hailey hadn’t been born then, but it was the only time in my life, back then, that I felt like I had a true purpose. Then Hailey was born, and my priorities shifted.”

“I get it.” Stiles nodded. “I…I’ve had way too much going on back home. I saw way too much death, some of it as up close as you can get, and at this point nothing could surprise me.” He laughed darkly, but the underlying tone was there, the underlying anxiety and sadness.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” Henry offered “I don’t know what you went through, and I don’t image you’ll tell us anytime soon, but I think I can understand.”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled at the older man “Thanks, man.” Carson turned around and walked over to Stiles and Henry as they finished filling up, swinging her crossbow lazily. Stiles gave her a look and she shrugged.

“We’re clear for now.” She told them. Stiles nodded and went to close the cap of the jerry can.

There were footsteps behind them coupled with excited chatter, meaning the group who went inside had come back out, Tyler holding an armful of chocolate bars with a grin on his face. Andrea had her hand over his shoulder, her own expression seemingly content. David hung at the back of the group where he was silent, until he noticed the shuffling corpse nearing Stiles.

“Stiles!” He shouted, which was probably a bad idea.

Stiles turned quickly, his hand pulling his gun out of its holster. It was barely a second, but Stiles aimed and fired, the zombie going down with a splutter of blood and brains. Tyler screamed and Andrea held him tightly. The zombies in the area were making their way towards the station, having heard the gunshot, while Stiles tried to calm the group down so they could move. Andrea was frantic, while Samuel tried his best to get her to move with the group, Tyler suddenly clinging to his dad. David and Carson were escorting Ross, Julia and Hailey past Stiles and back towards the cars, while Stiles tried to get the last three out of there. A zombie came up behind them, and Stiles didn’t even hesitate, he sent out a shot, downing the zombie, but three more came out from behind the gas station.

“We have to go, now!” Stiles yelled at the family. Andrea was crying and Tyler was whimpering into his father’s side. “Andrea, you need to calm down and listen to me!” Stiles grabbed Andrea’s shoulders and she stared distantly into Stiles’ eyes. “You can get through this, okay? You need to, for Tyler and Samuel. You need to suck it up for now and come back to the cars with us where you’ll be safe, alright?” Andrea nodded through her tears and went to follow Stiles.

Stiles didn’t see the zombie until it was right on her. He made the mistake of letting her follow him, instead of pushing her in front of him. He didn’t register the groaning that was closer than the rest, and he didn’t register that the body standing behind Andrea wasn’t a friendly. He heard the cry of ‘No’ before he even registered what had happened. He was left staring at the zombie that had what was left of its face buried into Andrea’s neck, all while she was screaming. Samuel held Tyler tightly, pushing the boy’s face into his stomach so he couldn’t see what was happening. Stiles shook himself out of his shock and took a shot at the zombie’s head. The zombie fell to the ground, Andrea falling with it.

Stiles walked over to Andrea who was whimpering, holding a hand over her wound. Stiles immediately looked back at Samuel, then at the group of approaching zombies and he made a decision.

“Help me carry her!” Stiles exclaimed. Samuel ran up to Stiles, helping him carry Andrea while Tyler ran back to the cars. They carried Andrea, who was crying out in pain at every step, all the way back to the cars, and laid her out in the back of the minivan. “We have to go somewhere now. We can deal with that once we’re out of immediate danger.” Stiles said. The group gave him grim nods and Stiles ran back to the sedan, where the rest of his group joined him.

He watched in the rear view mirror as Henry quickly filled up the minivan with gas before jumping inside and starting the ignition. Stiles did the same and the group continued to drive until they found an appropriate place to hole up for the night. It wasn’t anything fancy, just an old bar which Stiles found incredibly beneficial. The world went to shit, who cared about age restrictions anymore.

They fortified the bar from the inside and set themselves up on the bar floor. Stiles made sure everyone was comfortable before pouring two glasses of whiskey. One for himself, and the other he handed to Samuel. Samuel looked up at him with surprise, his eyes watering and face tear-stained as he sat over Andrea, who had fallen unconscious. Tyler had gone off with Hailey and Julia, leaving the man to grieve over the impending death of his wife.

“Seemed like you could use it.” Stiles supplied at Samuel’s questioning look at the drink.

“Thanks.” Samuel nodded, took the glass and downed the amber liquid. Stiles sat on a chair next to Samuel and watched Andrea’s face for life - or reanimation if he was being honest. “You saved her back there.”

“I didn’t.” Stiles shook his head, downing the drink before pouring himself another, doing the same for Samuel. “If I had seen it earlier, she wouldn’t have been bitten.” He looked to the floor and fumbled with his glass. “You know what has to happen.” He added.

“I know.” Samuel nodded. “I want to be the one to do it.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure.” Samuel said.

“We need to do it soon,” Stiles muttered and Samuel nodded. “Preferably away from the main group. We don’t want Tyler to see. He’s seen enough already.” Stiles said.

“We can take her out back.” Samuel said in a small voice. “Now?” Stiles nodded with a sympathetic expression. “Okay…”

Samuel and Stiles carefully picked Andrea up, the rest of the group noticing but not saying a word, and took her out behind the main room to the cellar. It was dark, musty and fully of cobwebs and mouldy wood. They set Andrea down on the floor and Stiles turned to Samuel.

“There’s a choice. Gun, crossbow or knife.” Stiles told him. “We need to do this, but if you need some time…” He trailed off and Samuel shook his head.

“No. It has to happen now.” He shook and tears streamed down his face. “Crossbow please, it needs to be quiet.”

Stiles nodded and left the room to go back out and grab the crossbow. When he returned, he walked in to Samuel crying over Andrea’s body, covering her face in kisses while tears leaked onto her cheeks. Stiles stood at the door, but felt like he was intruding. He waited for several minutes, watching the scene with sad eyes. The world had become so cruel in the span of a few days. It had taken mothers, fathers, children, and it wasn’t stopping.

Samuel eventually noticed Stiles’ presence and stood, the movement inviting Stiles to join him over Andrea. Stiles gently handed Samuel the crossbow, the arrow already loaded and practically ready to go. Stiles stepped back and watched as Samuel aimed the weapon at Andrea’s head, his hands shaking and his face breaking as he tried to hold in his crying. Stiles knew he would be the most equipped to finish the job, but he didn’t want to take it away from Samuel unless he couldn’t do it.

“I can’t.” Samuel eventually said, pushing the crossbow at Stiles, who took it quickly. Stiles nodded and walked over to stand above Andrea.

“You might not want to look.” Stiles said gently. Samuel nodded, but his eyes stayed glued to Andrea’s face. Stiles wasted no more time and aimed the crossbow at Andrea’s head, counting down from three in his mind and holding his breath just as he pulled the trigger. The arrow sailed into Andrea’s head and Stiles found himself feeling a mix of guilt, relief and sadness. Guilt, because it was the second time within a few days where had killed an innocent woman because of something terrible that had happened to her, relief, because their group would be safe without the threat of one of their own turning, and sadness for Samuel and Tyler, who had just lost a wife and mother. Stiles knew what that felt like, and he had it in his mind to go talk to Tyler afterwards.

“I don’t think I want to go to Missouri.” Samuel told Stiles. “My mother’s more than likely dead and I don’t think I can handle seeing that, or not seeing her at all.” Stiles put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Samuel nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Samuel looked over at Andrea’s body, the arrow still in her forehead. Stiles saw that and quickly went to remove the arrow as carefully as possible. They needed to keep as many arrows as they could.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Stiles told him before exiting the cellar to get back to the main group.

Once Stiles stepped into the main room, the air shifted and silence fell over them. They all turned towards Stiles, eyes searching him for any signs of what had happened. Some noticed the small blood splatters on his hands and arms, others noticed the wrecked expression on his face. Stiles saw their stares and turned his head away, walking fast to the bar where he got himself yet another drink of whiskey.

It was a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated today because I have too much to do tomorrow (Which is Sunday for me), so I won't get time otherwise.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm's coming

Henry was getting the group organised into the vehicles, getting everyone packed to continue moving west. Stiles was sitting at the bar with a bottle of whiskey and his gun sitting on the table in front of him. He had noticed that morning how Samuel was trying to be brave for Tyler, that he was trying to keep going for his little boy. Everyone held a burden in the brand new world out to claim them all, some more than others, and Stiles thought he was equipped to handle it, he thought he was okay, but he wasn’t.

He may have put on an exterior of ‘I know what I’m doing’ but really, all his knowledge of zombies came from television shows, comic books and his imagination. His survival knowledge, however, came from years of surviving supernatural attacks as the only human. He supposed it helped their group to have someone like him around, but Carson was similarly minded. He supposed it had to do with her abusive father. That fact alone made Stiles nervous because the group could get by without him, because of Carson and Henry, but Stiles seemed to be the guy they threw the kills onto.

And it wasn’t like they asked him too, really, Stiles just did it when it needed to happen, and when Samuel couldn’t bare to kill his own wife, Stiles took that burden from him and shuffled some room for it on his own shoulders. Everyone in the group seemed to have noticed that Stiles had more experience with things unsaid, things that most others in the group hadn’t yet gotten aquatinted with, and Stiles logically knew that made him the best candidate to deal with those things. He just didn’t realise the toll it would take on his own mind.

After the Nogitsune, he was different. He knew his pack, his friends, all noticed, but none of them said anything when Stiles was the first to suggest a plan that involved murder, or collateral, or when Stiles displayed his newly found cynicism to go with that dark nature he hid under all those layers the moment the supernatural world brought it out of him. He didn’t pretend he was like Scott, he didn’t pretend that he was ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ or someone who wouldn’t have aligned with Peter if he was bitten instead of Scott. He didn’t pretend that any of that wasn’t him, and as a result he had more blood on his hands than a twenty year old should.

It had been less than a week, and the apocalypse had already taken parts of Stiles’ soul.

“We’re heading out.” Carson walked over to the bar and pulled the bottle of whiskey from Stiles’ hands, and putting his gun back in its holster. He let out a slurred reply. While he was sober enough to think, he was drunk enough to not see straight. “I’ll drive.” She spread her lips into a thin line.

“Let’s…uh.” Stiles fumbled with his words as he attempted to stand, his legs giving out from under him for only a second. “Let’s bring the…the w-sky…” Stiles slurred and diverted his attention to the stocked bar. Carson sighed.

“I’ll bring a bottle, okay?” She left his side and walked behind the bar to find an unopened bottle of whiskey to bring back to Stiles. “You shouldn’t be drinking, though.” She added.

“It’s the end of the-the fucking world, l-lighten up.” Stiles spluttered a laugh while Carson sighed and helped him walk out to the car.

“Is he okay?” Henry asked, concerned.

“Peachy.” Stiles mumbled.

“He’s drunk off his ass.” Carson supplied with a grunt, pushing Stiles into the passenger seat. “Can’t even walk.” Henry frowned.

“It’s not a good look.” He sighed.

“Believe me, I know.” Carson strapped Stiles into the seat and turned to Henry. “The others look to Stiles for guidance because he seems to be the guy with the answers, but if he can’t cope…” She put a hand over her forehead and let out a puff of air.

“He’ll be okay, eventually.” Henry sighed. “He’s had a rough night.” The unspoken words relating to Andrea’s death hung in the air.

“Yeah, but so did Samuel. Only one of them hit the bottle.” Carson narrowed her eyes.

“From what I know, the kid’s been through more than most in this group, and he’s had a lot on his plate for a while, so maybe it’s just getting too much.” Henry shrugged. “He won’t tell me much about his life.”

“Me either.” Carson shook her head. Her eye caught something behind the minivan and she lightly pushed Henry towards the other vehicle. “We’ve got a hoard coming in, we should go now.” Henry sent her a nod and they both took their respective spots as the drivers of both vehicles.

Soon, they were off, heading west towards Oklahoma. Stiles was in the passenger seat, passed out with his head against the window, mouth open in an embarrassing moment of drooling and snoring. Carson had to fight the urge to laugh while David leant forward from the back seat to play around, sticking a pen in Stiles’ ear, some food in his mouth, and drawing a bit on his cheek.

The ride was fairly enjoyable with the group chatting. Occasionally Stiles would let out a snort, and the group would laugh, Ross letting out a sigh and a roll of his eyes every time it happened. Eventually, Carson did lighten up, and began laughing with the group, finally feeling comfortable for the first time since the week had started.

They went over a bump in the road, and Stiles jerked awake, hitting his head on the roof of the car, a dazed expression plastered on his face. He wiped away the drool from his cheek, collar and the window, and as a result he wiped off the pen, before looking around the car at the group’s amused smirks and stifled laughs - badly done in David’s case.

“What, uh, what happened?” Stiles asked. Carson let out a chuckle and soon the dam broke, the entire car erupted into laughter at Stiles’ expense, causing him to scowl. His mind was still muddled enough to know that speaking, or protesting, was a bad idea as he would likely just embarrass himself further.

“Looks like there’s a storm brewing.” Ross spoke up from the back seat, his eyes plastered to the dark cloud hanging above the road ahead.

“We should find cover until the storm passes.” David suggested.

“Let’s just wait and see if the storm actually comes first.” Carson stated, her words final.

“Or unless we find a spot that’s too good to pass up.” Stiles added, giving Carson a side eye.

“Yeah, or that.” She muttered.

They drove on in for several hours. Stiles was still sobering up, while Carson was tense. The backseat was fine, though, with David asking Ross questions about his past, and Julia piping up whenever she wanted to ask David anything. They passed several clusters of houses, small strips of shots and gas stations, and larger towns. Stiles kept his eyes out for anywhere they could stop, as thunder roared in the distance.

Once rain began to drop on the windshield, Carson pulled over in the parking lot of an old motel that seemed relatively deserted. Stiles frowned and slowly got out with the rest of the group. The minivan pulled up behind them, and the rest of their group joined them outside. Hailey was shivering in the cold wind, Henry holding her in his arms. Samuel was doing the same with Tyler, while the rest didn’t seem too bothered by temperature.

“We’ll clear this place out and stay here until the storm passes.” Carson announced. The group agreed that stopping was a good idea, and they all grabbed their things from the vehicles.

Stiles picked up his shotgun, but Carson put her hand on his and shook her head, taking it from him to string over his shoulder. He supposed he was still drunk enough that being given a weapon wasn’t a good idea. He still had his sidearm and his knife, but he figured he’d let the rest of them do most of the work while he could barely hold up his own body weight.

The group, all of them this time, moved through the motel room by room, Carson and Henry taking point, while Stiles took the back of the group, his feet stumbling after the rest. They heard footsteps from up ahead and Henry signalled for the group to stop. He and Carson went forward, leaving Stiles with the main group, and went searching the rooms up ahead together.

Carson entered one room and soon there was a loud bang and a yelp. Henry ran into the room and stood at the doorway, his bat raised. Stiles stumbled forward, leaving the main group to see what was happening. In the room, a young woman with caramel skin, black hair and dark eyes had pinned Carson to the floor, a knife to her throat, the snarl on her face evident.

“Hey, hey!” Stiles called out, suddenly sobered up as the fear of Carson dying hit him. Henry gave Stiles a look but walked back over to the main group. “Let her go and we can just talk!” He held his hands out in surrender, and the woman narrowed her eyes, her grip on the knife tensing. “We don’t want to hurt anyone, we’re just looking for shelter.” Stiles reasoned.

A part of his mind scoffed at the fact it was him reasoning for someone’s life.

“Why come here?” The woman’s voice cut through the air.

“There’s a storm. It was the first place we saw.” Stiles explained quickly. “Please, let my friend go and we can just talk about this.” The woman grunted but stood. Stiles helped Carson stand as she rubbed her neck.

Soon, a group of others joined the woman, two other woman and three young men. One woman had brown hair, incredibly blue eyes and tanned skin who reminded Stiles of Malia in pure presence, the other woman had blonde hair, green eyes and pale skin, her stature small and posture nervous. The three men all looked different, with the tallest having dark skin and black hair, nearly black eyes to go with it. The shortest of the men had brown hair and eyes with almost sickly pale skin, and he wore cracked glasses. The man who stood in between the others in height had light brown hair that seemed purposefully shaggy, blue eyes and a goatee that made him look like a stoner.

“My name’s Stiles.” Stiles offered. “She’s Carson, and the other guy’s Henry. We’re here with a group of others, we have teenagers, a child, and an elderly man. We’re just trying to survive here.”

“My name is Tanvi.” The woman who pinned Carson offered. She was tense and untrusting, but at least she wasn’t hostile at that moment.

“I’m Emma and this is Robin,” The brunette woman introduced, gesturing to the blonde beside her, Robin.

“I’m Josh,” The tallest man said, “He’s George, and he’s Kyle,” Josh gestured to the shortest man, and the other man respectively.

“Okay, hi.” Stiles muttered and gave them a quick, but tense, wave. “Look, we just want to stay here until the storm passes, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“How much food do you have?” Tanvi asked immediately. Stiles faltered and his eyes widened.

“What?”

“How much food do you have?” Josh repeated for Tanvi.

“Uh, we’ve got enough to last our own group another two weeks with rations.” Stiles supplied carefully.

“Do you have enough to feed us as well?” Tanvi narrowed her eyes and Stiles stepped back slightly.

“Look, what goes on with you guys is your business, what goes on with us is our business, we don’t just share food with just anybody.” Stiles said.

“Then we join them.” Robin shrugged, Kyle agreeing. Tanvi gave them a glare, and the two backed off.

“Okay, you guys _can_ join us if you want, you’d just have to promise not to stab any of our people.” Stiles told them. “Unless you want to join our group, then we’ll be taking up a few rooms and staying out of your way.” Stiles turned to leave and go back to their group.

“Stay.” Tanvi called, getting Stiles to stop and turn back to her. “You can stay here,” She added. “Just stay out of our way unless we come to you.” Stiles nodded and turned back to his own group, escorting them over to one side of the motel where they settled into two rooms..

Regardless of the storm outside their windows, they all managed to sleep soundly, Stiles, Carson and Henry once again taking shifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorter chapter to introduce some new characters. Next chapter's longer and also the beginning of something big. Stay tuned.


	5. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later, the group runs into trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves. This is the beginning of something big.

It took two weeks for the storm to fully break. The storm itself had gone away within a day, but the leftover weather changes were enough to keep them indoors. During that time, the food they had begun to diminish quicker than they wanted it to. Tanvi and her group eventually decided to stick with them, having gained some form of respect for Stiles, and maybe just a bit of trust for the group. Stiles had also stopped shaving, as did the rest of the men in the group. It wasn’t something he felt he had to be concerned about, so he stopped. Their resources had become scarce, and eventually razors were a luxury the men gave up so the women who needed it, could feel a bit cleaner.

It had been about three weeks since the apocalypse started, and everyone was starting to feel it. The general mood was exhaustion and a loss of hope. Most of them seemed to have hoped it was all a dream for the first week, but afterwards, hope seemed to fall. Stiles couldn’t blame them, as the world had become crueler and more unforgiving than ever before. Even he wasn’t really feeling all too hopeful, but he was focussed on survival.

“We need food or everyone here is going to starve.” Carson walked up to him as he stood against the railing of the outside walkway around the motel. “The map says there’s a mall not far from here.”

“We’d need to take a large enough group in order to get enough food for everyone here.” Stiles mused with a frown.

“Josh and I will come with you.” Tanvi approached, her expression stony as ever, Josh trailing behind her. Stiles nodded and turned around to lean with his back against the railing. He crossed his arms and faced the group in front of him.

“Have you been to the mall nearby?” Stiles asked. Tanvi seemed to pale and she nodded.

“Within the first few days.” She said. “It’s overrun, we lost two of our own there.” Stiles frowned and scratched at his cheek, not used to feeling the rough stubble that made his jaw a bit on the itchy side.

“Well we need food. Any other suggestions?” Stiles asked. Tanvi shook her head and looked to Josh, who gave Stiles a thin grimace.

“I think we should try the mall again.” Carson sighed. Stiles shook his head.

“No, if they lost people there, then it’s probably not a good idea to get ourselves trapped in an enclosed space with a heap of zombies.” Stiles eyed her. “We’re not going to risk it.”

“Well what else do you suggest we do?” Carson narrowed her eyes. “We need the food!”

“You think I don’t realise that!” Stiles growled out with gritted teeth. “I’m just trying to keep everyone alive here! We’ve had enough deaths already!”

“Deaths that _you_ caused!” Carson bared her teeth like a caged animal at the jab and Stiles flinched. She faltered at her own words and clamped her mouth shut, eyes going soft at how Stiles’ expression suddenly turned cold.

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Stiles snapped. Tanvi and Josh looked between the two with interest, and confusion. Stiles turned away from Carson, back to Tanvi and Josh. “Is there any other stores or we’d likely find food around?”

“The area’s not that big, but there’s a gas station not far from here that might have something.” Josh suggested. Stiles nodded and diverted his attention to Tanvi, who was shifting on her feet like she had something to say.

“What is it?” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Tanvi.

“If we can get in through the back entrance to the mall we might have a chance.” Tanvi muttered. “It’s a small block that was sectioned off in the first few days, no way in unless we break something, so it should be relatively clear.” Stiles gave her a smile and a nod.

“Alright, that’s what we’ll do.”

Stiles left the group and walked into one of the rooms that his main group had settled into. He found David sitting in the corner with Tyler and tapped him on the shoulder to get him to stand. David exchanged a glance with Tyler before standing and following Stiles out onto the balcony. Tanvi, Josh and Carson were waiting not far away, and watching as Stiles and David settled into place.

“What’s up?” David asked. He’d been happy to settle down, away from the blood and the death that awaited him outside their safe haven, but Stiles needed David, and he needed David to get more acquainted with the idea of blood. He wasn’t going to force him into anything, but he hoped David would go on their food run.

“Carson and I are going out with Tanvi and Josh to get some more food.” Stiles told him. “There’s a mall nearby that has been overrun, but Tanvi says there’s a back area that’s been blocked in.” David fidgeted on the spot and looked down before looking up at Stiles, who’s intense expression caused him to falter. Stiles let out a sigh and shook his head. “You don’t have to come, but it would be good if you do.”

“Why?” David asked.

“Everyone here is still hanging onto that little bit of hope that, I don’t know, this is all a dream, or something.” Stiles shook his head and shuffled on his feet to get in a comfortable position. “We need to be prepared for the worst, and we’re not. I know that it’s because we have normal people in this group, people who never had any training of any sort, of have never faced anything like this before, but we need people to be ready.” Stiles watched David’s face as it twisted into a confused frown. “I need you to not freeze every time we go out there.” David’s eyes snapped to Stiles’ face.

“You want me to be as-as _cold_ as you?” David took two steps back and stared at Stiles. “You scare me, man!” He let out a nervous laugh. Stiles frowned and guilt suddenly plagued his mind. “You went and killed Alice and Andrea like it was no big deal, and you’re running around taking control like you’ve been in these situations before, and it’s _terrifying_!” David shook his head, but Stiles only waited. “You say you’ve been through some shit, and whatever it was must’ve been _really bad_ for you to barely bat an eye at the fucking apocalypse!”

“David…” Stiles trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “Yes or no?” David was silent for longer than Stiles would have wanted, but it seemed he was calming himself down in the process. It took about a minute for David to look at Stiles again, but all he could do was shrug with his answer.

“Yeah. I guess.” David huffed, not entirely happy about it, but he supposed he could see Stiles’ logic.

Stiles gave him a nod, told him to go help the rest of their group to get what they needed before they rolled out, and walked back into the room to talk to Henry. They figured out that when Stiles was gone, Henry was the boss and nobody complained. He was a military man, knew how to get people to work and how to keep people safe, so Stiles was all too ready to hand over the metaphorical reigns for a few hours.

Stiles and the rest of the group met up at the sedan, where they all piled in uncomfortably. Tanvi took the drivers side with Stiles in the passenger seat, while Carson, David and Josh were sitting too close together in the back seat. Stiles stifled a laugh at the nervous glances David exchanged with Josh.

Tanvi’s group, while they were interacting with Stiles’, they weren’t trusted. Stiles himself trusted Tanvi as far as he could throw her, and he wasn’t very willing to do any different unless she proved herself trustworthy. Simply taking them in and letting them stay wasn’t enough. Stiles found that he liked Emma the best out of their group. She wasn’t idealistic like Robin or Kyle, and she reminded him a lot of Malia, which probably helped in that matter.

Stiles was brought out of his thoughts when Tanvi pulled the car to a stop. He jerked his head up to watch what she was doing. They weren’t even close to the mall, and there were strangler zombies wondering around, heads perked up and twitching oddly at the sound of the car. Before asking questions, he looked into the backseat to see that David had paled considerably, while Carson was frowning with displeasure.

“Is there a reason as to why we’ve stopped?” Stiles asked, turning back to look at Tanvi.

“We walk from here.” She told him.

“Why?” David called from the back, his voice shaking. “Can’t we just drive up?”

“It’d draw too much attention from the corpses.” Josh spoke up. “The car’s too loud, and they’d swarm within seconds.”

“Good point.” Stiles agreed.

The group reluctantly left the car and readied their weapons. They kept their guns holstered as they held only silent weapons. Carson held her crossbow, Stiles his bat, David his crowbar, Tanvi had a machete - which Stiles wondered briefly where she found it - while Josh had a smaller knife. They were prepared and moved forward without speaking.

The closest zombies turned their heads towards the group and began shuffling forward, but they didn’t react until they got close enough to reach out. Stiles hit his bat twice over the head of one of the zombies, while Tanvi had sliced through the top of another’s head with ease. While they attracted the attention of other zombies, there were plenty that had no legs to get them.

There was one in their path with no legs, but tried to reach out and grab Tanvi’s leg. Stiles swung his bat over its head and then stomped on it with his foot, suddenly nauseas at the sight of the blood caking around his shoe and splattered onto his leg along with bits of brain. He gagged and turned his head away, Carson giving him an odd look that seemed almost amused.

“What?” Stiles hissed at her while they walked.

“You’ve killed how many of these guys? And yet you’re still gagging.” She stifled a laugh as she spoke. Stiles frowned.

“It’s more the sight of the brain on my leg that’s got me nauseated.” He muttered.

The group continued on, keeping the nearby zombies at bay. They eventually came across the large, abandoned mall that loomed overhead. From the ground, they could see zombies moving around the parking garage, particularly on the roof, and David was immediately ready to tap out. He turned around, his head shaking, before snapping himself back to stand with the group.

“Nope, I’m not doing this.” David muttered, wringing his hands together nervously.

“Where’s this back entrance?” Stiles looked to Tanvi, who pointed towards the courtyard in front of the mall.

They walked through the courtyard as carefully as possible, Tanvi taking the lead and swinging her machete at any zombies that walked past. Tanvi led them to an alleyway that connected two sections of the mall together, with the main connection being a bridge above their heads. She exchanged a look with Stiles, before she let out a grunt and sent her machete onto a welded barricade on the door to a fire exit. Once she broke the seal, she walked through the door. Josh followed her in, and soon enough Carson followed. It took a few minutes, but Stiles managed to push David in before him, forcing him to move forward.

When they exited the fire escape corridor, Tanvi pulled them into cover inside a health food store. The interior of the mall was wrecked, dirt and blood was splattered everywhere Stiles looked, and there were the bodies of what once were shoppers lying on the ground. Walking around, was a relatively small amount of zombies considering the size of the mall.

“What do we do?” David asked in a whisper.

“We sneak around, get what we need.” Tanvi told him as quietly as she could.

They split into groups, with Stiles and Tanvi taking one side of the mall, and Carson, Josh and David on the other side. Stiles and Tanvi teamed to take the side that seemed more densely populated with the undead. David had given Stiles one last look of helplessness before turning to follow Carson and Josh. Tanvi led the way once again, and they quietly ducked in and out of cover, while occasionally downing a zombie or two when they could.

“We have to clear this area.” Tanvi muttered as they peered out from the window of a clothing store. “There’s not too many.” She observed.

She was right. While the side they had taken had more zombies than the other, it seemed there was only maybe a dozen roaming around. Stiles adjusted his bat and then looked up in a silent prayer to whatever might be listening. Tanvi gave him a slightly panicked look, but that only lasted a second, and it was replaced by her usual resolve of steely calm. Stiles did the same.

“Three…” Tanvi began, adjusting her stance as she prepared to run.

“Two…” Stiles swung his bat around in his hands and gave a nod to Tanvi.

“One!”

The two sprung out from the store and went into action. Tanvi’s machete did wonders and she sliced through any oncoming zombies as easily as someone would slice through food. Stiles was having more trouble with his bat, having to swing multiple times in order to get them to go down, but he was downing his fair share of the undead.

Stiles eventually gave up on that game and went for the ‘one swing to the head, and a knife through the temple’ method, which was much quicker. He inched to use his gun, but it wasn’t the place for it. Tanvi continued to swing her machete as wildly as she could, not caring about the masses of blood that splattered over herself. Stiles, however, did care about how much blood he was getting on him, but he pushed that thought into the back of his brain as he focussed on making sure every corpse stayed down.

They soon began to pick up stragglers from Carson, David and Josh’s side of the mall, obviously ones that had heard the commotion, but Tanvi and Stiles made a surprisingly good team, enough to down over a dozen zombies in a relatively timely manner.

When they had finished, they stared at each other, both out of breath and covered in blood, and laughed. It wasn’t a humorous laugh, or a laugh you’d hear after a joke, but rather it was a laugh of relief and amazement that they had survived.

“Holy shit we lived.” Stiles shook his head in disbelief. Tanvi actually cracked a smile.

“Seems we did, Stilinski.”

The two walked away from the field of bodies they had created, and over to a grocery store. They both grabbed a basket at the door each and went to fill it with as much as they could. Unfortunately, most of the food around was either gone, off or open, but they made do with what they could find. Stiles ended up grabbing several cans of assorted food, some tuna packs, several packs of rice, some jarred sauce that he decided they had to use with the rice even if it was for only one meal, and other assorted foods that wouldn’t go off easily. Tanvi came out with a similar load, but had grabbed some canned pasta and some candies that she thought the group would like as a treat.

“This’ll last us another week at least.” Stiles sighed. “We’ll need to find somewhere to settle so we can grow our own food. Get a constant supply, you know?” He mused. Tanvi nodded as they began to walk back to where the other three were. Stiles quickly noticed the pile of bodies on the other side, meaning Carson, David and Josh had done the same and cleared out that side of the mall.

“Is that your goal? Finding a place to settle.” Tanvi asked. Stiles shook his head.

“My goal is survival, but I’d like to be able to go home.” He told her, having a feeling that she’d finally proven herself trustworthy by helping them get food. “I was at college in DC, but my home is in California.”

“There might not be much left.” Tanvi warned.

“I know, but I feel like I should at least try and see if anyone I knew survived.” He admitted.

Suddenly, a gunshot sounded from where the other three were, and Stiles and Tanvi took off as fast as they could while carrying the food. When they came to a stop, there was a group of about twenty, or thirty men, all armed and dressed in leather, pointing guns at Carson, David and Josh, who were knelt in front of them with their arms raised.

“What the hell…” Tanvi whispered. She and Stiles dropped their baskets of food behind a corner before breaking into the line of sight of the new group.

“Hey!” Stiles called, unholstering his pistol and pointing it at the man who seemed to be at the centre of the group. “Do you want to let my friends go, or is this going to get ugly?” He growled the words out. The man laughed and looked back at his buddied.

“You lot are invading our territory.” The man stated, making Stiles narrow his eyes at the word ‘territory’.

“We’ll leave, just let us go!” David pleaded, and Stiles let out a sigh.

“Look, we don’t want trouble, but we do want to get back to the rest of our group.” Stiles told them “If you’re going to keep us from our group, then we’re going to have a problem here.” He didn’t let up his aim on the man, and was surprised at how his hands didn’t shake.

“I wouldn’t pick a fight with us, kid.” The man at the front grinned and suddenly his eyes twisted from a dark brown, to a bright, blood red. Stiles flinched, but he wasn’t surprised, and the man noticed that. “You seem to know what I am, how interesting.” The man laughed.

“Newsflash, buddy.” Stiles grunted “The world’s gone to shit, and zombies are everywhere, nobody cares about werewolves anymore.”

The comment got the man’s eyebrows to raise in annoyance and he trained his gun on Stiles instead of David. Stiles took a deep breath, but didn’t falter at the move, his eyes narrowed in focus. The man took several steps forward and stared at Stiles. Stiles didn’t move and didn’t say anything as the werewolf looked him up and down.

“Looks like we’ve got a smart-mouth on our hands, boys.” The alpha laughed and Stiles grunted out an annoyed tone.

“Let them go.” Tanvi spoke up, her voice as steely as her expression. The werewolf made a mocking face at Tanvi.

“No, I don’t think that’ll happen.” The were wolf laughed and he fired a shot at Stiles.

Stiles jumped out of the way, but the bullet clipped his shoulder - thankfully only a graze. He grabbed David and ducked for cover, Tanvi, Carson and Josh all doing the same on their own accord. The pack of wolves in front of them were firing off shots, while one wolf in the corner let out a frustrated roar. Stiles grimaced as bullets hit the front of the register desk he was hiding behind with David.

Stiles heard David take a deep breath and break cover before Stiles could drag him back. David ran to another cover point and began firing shots. Stiles stared at him with a mix of shock and pride before he, too, began firing shots at the group. Stiles managed to nail one of the wolves in the head, while he hit others in the centre body. He hoped he got one or two in the heart, but it didn’t seem like they were going down.

It happened in slow motion, and Stiles wished he saw it. David broke cover again, running out in the open to try and get to another cover position when he was shot. The alpha had fired a shot directly at David’s leg, and he went down. Stiles let out a yell of ‘no’ before the alpha dragged David, who was kicking and clawing at the wolf to drop him, away from the fight. The rest of the pack had continued to fire at them to stop them from going after the alpha who was taking David right out from under them.

Stiles, in a moment of rage, broke cover and walked forward, firing shots at the wolves until he had to reload. He peppered bullet after bullet into their bodies, nailing some in the middle of the skull. He ducked behind cover next to Tanvi to reload as she was firing shots, downing several. It seemed Carson and Josh were doing okay, both of them downing a few wolves each.

When the wolves stopped firing, they left after their alpha, leaving Stiles, Carson, Tanvi and Josh all sitting behind after watching their friend be taken. Stiles suddenly felt like he failed the other man, his own roommate, and stood from his place next to Tanvi. He let out a pained yell and kicked at a trash can nearby. He then hit the wall again, and again, and again, until his knuckles bled and Carson gently removed his hand from the now bloodied section of plaster.

“We’ll get him back.” Tanvi announced.

“How? They’re a pack of werewolves and we don’t even know where they went.” Stiles spat.

“We’ll get him back.” Tanvi repeated, her tone less hopeful but more purposeful.

Stiles had a new goal: find David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not do a mid-week update this coming week, purely since I haven't had time to write and chapter 6 is only half finished, so don't expect one this coming week. Sorry


	6. Wolves, Why Did it Have to be Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes an effort to get David back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are lucky that I finished this chapter in time for a mid-week update. Hope you like this chapter!

David grunted as he was thrown into a dark room. The werewolf that had thrown him in had given him a smirk and a flash of glowing blue eyes before closing the door behind him. David slowly got to his feet and walked around the room, eyes roaming the darkness for any sort of definition. His feet hit a solid object and he felt around with his hands. They’d at least put a bed in the room. With a sigh, David crawled onto the bed and curled into a foetal position.

He tried to close his eyes and sleep until something happened, but the sounds of the outside kept him awake. The room obviously shared a wall with the outside, and he could hear the sounds of the undead shuffling around, some of them clawing at the wall. David put his back to the wall and took in a shuddering breath.

It wasn’t long before the door to the room opened and yellow light was cast over David’s face. He squinted and sat up, hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the light. Standing at the door was the man that had taken him. The werewolf had changed from his leather get up into jeans and a torn henley shirt.

“Stand up.” The man ordered. David gulped but did as he said.

“Who are you?” David asked. The man didn’t answer, instead he grabbed David’s wrists tight enough for David to gasp in pain. “My friend called you a werewolf.”

“That’s right.” The man rolled his eyes and pulled David over to the middle of the room, where David could see chains hanging from the ceiling. The werewolf pulled David’s hands up and clasped the chains around his wrists, holding his hands together. David grunted as the werewolf pulled the chains from the other end, which pulled David up above the floor so he was hanging from the ceiling, his feet suspended a foot over the floor. The werewolf anchored the chains to the wall and then left the room, closing the door after him.

“Hey!” David called after him, squirming in the air as he tested the strength of the chains. “Dammit…” He grunted once he realised the chains were too strong for him to break.

* * *

Stiles paced around the small area of the mall, Tanvi, Carson and Josh watching on with worried expressions. He turned quickly on his heel and stalked over to the pile of werewolf bodies. The rest of the group watched on in curiosity as Stiles turned one of the downed men over. Stiles let out a breath when he realised the man was still alive, having only sustained a shot to his abdomen. It was a bad shot, but not bad enough for him to bleed out.

Stiles picked the man up and pushed him against the wall, fists grasping his shirt. The man growled and bared his teeth, but they were surprisingly human. Stiles narrowed his eyes and glanced down at the man’s wounds. The man tried to struggle, but Stiles forced him in place. Behind him, Tanvi, Carson and Josh didn’t know what to do.

“Looks like you’re not healing.” Stiles stated, his tone dark.

“That’s because I’m human, asshole.” The man gritted his teeth and snapped back at Stiles. Stiles’ eyes rose, but not in surprise, rather a mocking expression that didn’t quite hide his satisfaction.

“Are you now?” Stiles smirked. “I’m going to give you two choices. One, I kill you right here, right now,” The man flinched but didn’t seem unhappy at the suggestion, “two, you tell me where you and your friends live so I can get my friend back.”

“Go to hell!” The man spat, his teeth bared.

“Yeah, probably.” Stiles replied casually. He glanced back at the group behind him, his head nodding to Carson. Carson took her gun and aimed it at the man at Stiles’ gesture. “Your alpha friend said this was your territory. I know enough about wolves to know that means you lot live nearby.” Stiles kept talking, hoping to get something out of the man if he got close enough. “So where is it? Somewhere in the mall? Maybe a house nearby?” Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man, but got no indication of any knowledge. “Okay, since you won’t talk, how about I make you?” Stiles pushed the man down onto the ground, pulling his arms around his back into an arrest position.

“Oh, come on, man!” The man yelled out. Stiles looked at Tanvi and Josh, Carson still pointing the gun at the man.

“Someone find me some rope or something.” Stiles told Tanvi and Josh. Josh gave him a nod and ran off, returning moments later with rope. Stiles took it and used it to tie the man up. Once he was tied, Stiles pulled him to his feet and pushed him to the front of the group. “If you won’t talk, how about we make a trip outside, I’m sure the corpses would love some packaged dinner.” The man struggled away from Stiles, but Stiles kept him in place. “Ready to talk? Or should I just open that door?” He gestured to the way they’d come in.

“He’ll kill me if I tell you!” The man yelled at Stiles. Stiles gave him a raised eyebrow and a sigh.

“And you seriously think I won’t kill you now? Which one of us currently has you tied up right now?” Stiles gestured vaguely over the man. “Who is he? Your alpha buddy?” The man chewed the inside of his cheek and shuffled on his feet before answering.

“His name’s John Cole,” He answered.

“Good,” Stiles nodded slowly before continuing, “and where can I find this John Cole?”

“It’s an old factory about a mile out from here.” The man answered with a sigh. Stiles smiled and glanced back at the group behind him, all three had a relieved expression on their face. “Can you just kill me so I don’t have to face Cole?”

“You actually want to die?” Stiles asked in surprise.

“Whatever you do to me, it’s nothing compared to what Cole’ll do.” He answered.

“What does he do? And will he do it to my friend?” Stiles narrowed his eyes as his grip on the man’s arm tightened.

“He makes sure they’re awake, that’s how it starts…” The man began, his expression turning haunted, “then he takes them apart, piece by piece with his claws.” He finished. Stiles’ expression turned into both shock and disgust. “He’ll do that to me, and he might do that to your friend when he’s finished with him. So just kill me now so I don’t have to go through that.” Stiles looked back at Carson, Tanvi and Josh, all three looking just as shocked and disgusted as him. Stiles turned back to the man and forced him to his knees. Stiles pushed his gun up to the back of his head.

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked.

“Zach.” He replied. Zach seemed relaxed as he pushed his head right into the barrel of the gun, welcoming the incoming death.

“I’m sorry, Zach.” Stiles muttered before pulling the trigger. He immediately turned to the rest of the group, his expression a mixture of emotions. “We’re going to that factory.”

“We need to get the food back to the motel, then we can make the trip tomorrow,” Carson held her hands out in front of her, trying to calm the situation.

“David might not make it to tomorrow,” Stiles spat, his teeth bared in a way that made him look feral. “We need to go _now_!” He exclaimed with a huff. Carson bit her lip and exchanged a glance with Tanvi.

“Josh, take Carson back to the motel with the food in the car. I’ll go with Stiles to the factory.” Tanvi stated. Josh nodded, then looked to Carson before they both picked up as much of the food as they could and walked out of sight. Tanvi watched Stiles as he paced in front of her, his expression worried. “We will get him back.” Tanvi told him. Stiles glanced back at her quickly before frowning and continuing to pace.

“Why are you helping? You barely know David.” Stiles asked once he stopped pacing.

“I know he’s a good guy, and doesn’t deserve to be taken by…werewolves.” She frowned at the mention of the supernatural creatures. “Werewolves, really?” She eyed Stiles who only sighed.

“Yeah, been a thing for centuries believe it or not,” he shrugged.

“So you know a lot about them, yeah?”

“Yeah.” And with that last word, Stiles went to leave, Tanvi following quietly.

* * *

David groaned in pain as the werewolf ran his claws over his chest, the look on his face purely of glee. He shut his eyes tightly as the wolf’s claws left his chest, the pain staying but quickly died down to a dull throb unless he moved sharply. His eyes were closed for several minutes, and he didn’t open them again until he realised there was no more movement in the room. When they were open, he realised the werewolf had left, and he took the time to survey his wounds. The cuts on his chest weren’t overly deep, but they cut enough layers of skin to bleed continuously. There were also cuts on his back and his writs were bleeding from his attempts to get out of the chains.

The room was quiet, with only the groaning of the undead outside to fill the silence. David swung his legs around in the air, grunting in pain when he accidentally agitated the gunshot wound to his leg. He tried to look for anything to help him get out, but there was nothing in the room. It seemed they were careful.

David didn’t deserve any of it, he was set to be a desk jockey, glorified IT support in the pre-FBI program. He was different to Stiles, he didn’t have any want to be out in the thick of a fight, he didn’t even have the stomach to down a few zombies. They were once people, and he found it hard to get that out of his head. Stiles, however, seemed way too at ease. He meant it when he said Stiles frightened him, it was hard not to be frightened of the man. He seemed almost like he was made for a world where he had to fight to survive, and that thought alone was enough to make David uncomfortable around him. David wasn’t like him. He wasn’t.

The sounds of a car outside caught his attention and he strained his hearing to listen to what was going on. He heard vague, angry shouts that he couldn’t make out the words of, a man and a woman from what he could tell, and he was immediately filled with the hope that someone had come to help him, to save him. His hope was diminished as soon as shots were fired. He shut his eyes tightly at the sounds and prayed to a god he didn’t even worship that it wasn’t any of his friends.

That thought also turned out to be wrong. The werewolf who had tortured him opened the door only minutes after the shots were fired and threw someone into the same room. The figure didn’t move once the door was closed, and David only knew he was alive from the faint breaths he heard. David strained in his position to see who it was and was immediately shocked at the sight of Stiles, a gunshot wound straight through his shoulder, a patch of blood pooling at his side and bullet graze on the same shoulder he was shot through.

“Stiles?” David tested, trying to see if his friend was awake. “Stiles? You okay? Please be okay!” David frowned. He swung his good leg as far as he could over towards Stiles, his toes barely touching Stiles’ arm as it was draped over his body. “Come on, man, please wake up…” He trailed off when he heard the groan come from Stiles. Stiles was slow to move, but he eventually got himself to a sitting position, his eyes immediately moving to David, his eyes wide.

“David! Are you okay?” He asked, getting to his feet, stumbling as he did so. David weakly nodded. Stiles catalogued David’s injuries and frowned. He moved to set David free but the door opened before he did so. The werewolf walked inside, hands behind his back and Stiles turned quickly, stepping backwards so he was next to David. “John Cole I presume.” Stiles grunted.

“So you got Zach to talk…He was always the weak one. Wanted to stay human.” Cole laughed “How is he?”

“Dead.” Stiles replied. Cole nodded and glanced back to one of his wolves outside the door. Soon, two of them brought in a wooden chair and some zip ties. One placed the chair on the opposite side of the room to David, while the other forced Stiles to sit in it as he was tied down.

“I like you,” Cole said to Stiles, “You’ve got resolve and a stomach for the hard things in life.” He watched Stiles shift uncomfortably. “It makes me think you’ve done this sort of thing before. Not so much the zombies, but the killing.” Stiles narrowed his eyes and his posture went rigid.

“There’s scarier things in the world than some wolves and the undead,” Stiles gritted his teeth as he spoke, “Sometimes I think I’m one of them.” He added. Cole seemed impressed and nodded before he spoke.

“Since I like you, I’m going to offer you a deal,” Cole glanced at David, then back at Stiles, “I’ll let you leave this room if you agree to join my pack. Bite included.” Cole stated. “You’d make a formidable wolf.”

“No thanks Draugluin, I’m good.” Stiles spat, “I’ve been offered that one before, said no the first time.” Cole frowned but nodded.

“I expected that answer, but you cannot fault me for hoping.” Cole shrugged, “Well then, I suppose you know what happens now, don’t you?” Stiles stared at him with steely eyes.

“I suppose I do.” Cole walked out of the room, leaving Stiles and David alone. Stiles squirmed in his chair, trying to move it enough to break free, but the zip ties around his writs cut into them, quickly stopping his movements. He let out a string of loud curses before he slumped, giving up. He eyed David. “You okay?” He asked again. David let out a pained sigh but nodded.

“Torture sucks.” He exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “It does. What does he want from you?”

“I don’t know. At this point I think he’s just torturing me for fun.” David shook his head slowly at the words. Stiles frowned and looked at the floor. “God, it hurts.” He groaned.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles sighed, “we’ll get out of this.”

“I hope so, man…” David’s voice trailed off and Stiles quickly recognised the signs of unconsciousness coming on as his body went slack.

“David?” Stiles asked, cursing when he didn’t receive an answer. “Shit!” He growled.

* * *

Tanvi stumbled through the doors of the motel, her hand grasping a wound on her side. Carson immediately waved Henry over and they got her settled on one of the beds. She fell unconscious quickly, having lost a lot of blood. Henry used his vague amount of medical training from the army, and patched her up, while Carson looked her over, immediately worried. Stiles didn’t come back.

“Stiles was with her.” Carson muttered. Henry pursed his lips and sighed.

“What did they go to do?” He asked.

“David was kidnapped, Stiles wanted to get him back. He found where the guys who took David were, and Tanvi went with him.” Carson explained. “He shouldn’t have been there.” She added, her expression worried.

It didn’t take Tanvi to come back to consciousness, her eyes unfocused as she tried to gather her bearings. She jumped up to a sitting position and looked around wildly, mumbling something about ‘needing to go back’.

“Carson?” Tanvi eventually recognised the faces in the room with her and sighed, her head suddenly in her hands.

“What happened?” Carson asked.

“We went to the factory, and Stiles started shouting at them to give David back in exchange for Zach, hoping they didn’t realise Zach was dead,” she shook her head in frustration, “shots started flying, I was hit, Stiles was hit and before I knew it Stiles was being dragged inside the factory.”

“So two of our people were kidnapped. That’s not good.” Carson frowned and exchanged a glance with Henry. “What Zach said…what Cole’ll do to them…” She trailed off with worry and Tanvi looked up at her with a similar expression.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the weekend update, cuz some changes are coming, a small time jump and some broken mental states (Which may or may not be my favourite thing to write because angst is just my thing)


	7. Captivity Mindset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some trouble at the factory and the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTICE!!!!
> 
> There won't be a mid-week chapter this week. I'm starting a job on Wednesday and in-between that and uni, I have no time to write. Therefore, the next chapter will be next weekend.

Stiles lost track of time. He assumed it was days, judging by the growth of his facial hair, but it felt like weeks. Felt like months. Cole came around a few times in what Stiles assumed was a day. He made his rounds, he’d go to Stiles and rough him up a bit before leaving and coming back later, making a b-line for David. Every time he came by, either Stiles or David had to watch the other be tortured. The screams of the young man who had never been through anything like it pained Stiles to hear. He stopped begging for Cole to stop when he realised he wouldn’t, and instead took to shutting his eyes tightly.

Cole had barely given them food or water, only chucking in a bottle every now and then, and a loaf of stale bread. Eventually Cole had set them free from their restraints so they could at least move, but he seemed to have increased security outside the door. They didn’t complain, though, as they had to take what they could get.

Stiles and David were in bad shape. David could barely move two feet, his body was covered in wounds, his hands always around his stomach as if to hold it together. Cole had had more fun with David. That was the thing, though, Cole didn’t want anything from them, he just wanted something to do. He got bored. The sick bastard didn’t get enough enrichment in taking down the undead, so he took out excess energy on two captive humans.

Stiles, on the other hand, was in better shape. He had a deep cut over his right jaw, going up to stop at his cheek, and going down his neck slightly. He also had a deep cut over his left eyebrow that came from Cole using some spiked knuckle dusters. He was lucky he didn’t get caught in the eye with that once. He had various slashes all over his chest and back, and he knew that all of them were going to scar over. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it could’ve been worse. They could’ve been dead.

“Can you move?” Stiles asked David during one of the quiet days.

“Not really.” David said through gritted teeth. Stiles cursed and stood, shaky on his feet. He could feel fresh blood flowing from a wound on his shoulder, but he paid no attention to it, or the sting whenever he moved.

“Next time one of them comes in here, I’m going to kill them,” Stiles eyed David who gave him a grim look in return, “it’s the only way we’re getting out of here.” David nodded and Stiles went to lean up against the wall beside the door.

He waited.

* * *

The group was frantic. They’d moved from the motel to a run down house that was in the middle of a large block of land so they could defend the camp easier. Without Stiles and David, the morale of the group began to crumble. They knew there was a threat nearby, and they were scared. Carson and Tanvi tried to take control, but the people listened to Henry more. So, with Henry taking charge, Carson decided to make the rounds to check on their people, while Tanvi got to handing out their rations for the day.

“Everything okay over here?” Carson asked Ross as she approached him and Julia. Ross gave her a nod and then glanced at Julia.

“We’re okay for now. Just a little hungry.” Ross stated with a frown.

“Well, Tanvi’s coming around with some food, so just sit tight, okay?” Carson gave Ross a small pat on the shoulder before she walked over to Samuel, who had a frantic look on his face. “You okay, Sam?” She asked.

“I can’t find Tyler!” Samuel put a hand over his mouth as he began breathing quickly. Carson bit her lip and motioned over Emma, Robin, George and Kyle.

“What’s up?” Emma asked, her ams crossed over her chest.

“His son’s missing. We need to find Tyler.” Carson stated.

“Why us?” Robin asked with a shrug.

“Yeah, why us?” Kyle draped an arm over Robin’s shoulder.

“You lot need to prove your worth,” Carson explained quickly “he’s a kid, shouldn’t be too hard to find.” She added.

“Please…” Samuel pleaded, tears threatening to fall, “I can’t lose him too, I’ve already lost my wife.” Emma’s eyes softened and she nodded.

“We’ll find him.” She placed a hand on Samuel’s arm, a comforting gesture that seemed stiff coming from the woman, but it seemed enough for Samuel.

“Thank you.” Samuel gave her a smile.

* * *

Tyler fumbled with the gun in his hand as he walked through the woods surrounding the house they’d set up camp in. He knew he shouldn’t have wondered off, but he found the gun in a drawer in one of the rooms in the house - likely left over from the people who lived there - and curiosity took over. He knew his dad would be worried, but he wanted to learn how to protect himself. Nobody seemed willing to help him, though, so he had to do it himself.

Tyler tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground, the gun slipping from his hand. He let out a grunt and pulled himself to his feet, scowling at the skimmed knee, bits of grass sticking to the blood. He aggressively wiped himself off and picked up the gun, checking to see if it was okay. He inspected the gun and turned it around in his hands, looking at the latches and buttons. Tyler was curious, so he pressed a button on the side of the gun and jumped when the magazine fell to the ground.

“Dammit…” Tyler grunted. He knelt down and fumbled around, feeling for the magazine that seemed to be buried under leaves and sticks. He eventually found it, much to his relief, and pushed it back into the gun, though with some difficulty as he tried to find the right way around.

A low groaning and snarling sound from down a nearby hill got Tyler to stiffen. He got to his feet and raised the gun, his hands shaking as he did so. He walked slowly towards the sound, tripping occasionally. He came upon a zombie that was on the ground, legs torn off and sitting nearby under a fallen tree. Tyler pointed the gun at the zombie, watching as it snapped at him, trying to move towards him.

Tyler’s hands shook as he raised the weapon level to the zombie’s head, and he looked away just as he pulled the trigger. He was even more confused when nothing happened. Tyler pulled the gun back and turned it around in his hands, suddenly not paying attention to the zombie in front of him. He tried to pull back the lever on the back of the gun and raised it back to the zombie. He once again pulled the trigger, and fell backwards at the recoil.

Letting out a whimper, Tyler got to a sitting position, his hands grasping at the tree debris below him, his gun dropped, and he looked at the zombie he had shot. There was a hole the size of a quarter in the zombie’s eye, rendering it immobile. Tyler let out a whoop of victory and got to his feet, forgetting about the gun.

He was so wound up in his victory that he didn’t hear the shuffling and snarling that surrounded him.

Back at the house, the sound of a gunshot echoed around, causing Carson to snap her head up and look to Henry and Tanvi. Emma, Robin and Kyle ran frantically down the stairs as they had been up to search for Tyler, while George walked in from the living room, his face pale.

“What was that?” Robin asked.

“Henry?” Carson eyed Henry and he nodded, ducking behind a door frame and coming back with two shotguns. He threw one at Carson, which she caught and they ran out the front door without answering any of the others’ enquiries.

They ran towards where they thought the shot came from, their own guns at the ready. They came upon tree line and burst through, going straight. The scene they ran into made Carson’s heart stop. Tyler was standing over the body of a zombie while other zombies approached from down the hill, obviously having been drawn to the gunshot.

“Tyler!” Henry called. Tyler turned quickly and his expression was guilty.

“I just wanted to practice…to defend myself.” Tyler told them.

“You need to come with us, now!” Carson held out her hand and Tyler grabbed it.

Carson ran, Henry next to her and Tyler on her other side, all the way back to the house. They needed to get safely inside before they were jumped by a hoard. It was when a small group of zombies approached from the side that Carson pushed Tyler over to Henry and yelled at them to get inside.

Carson turned on her heel, took aim with her shotgun, and she fired.

* * *

The door to the room flung open and Stiles was forced back and to the ground. The werewolf that had come through wasn’t one they’d seen before, but he immediately grabbed Stiles by the shirt and threw him into the wall, punches flying as soon as he had the time. Stiles grunted but refused to back down, his knee coming up at full force into the wolf’s groin. Unfortunately he didn’t go down, instead he growled harder and swiped at Stiles’ chest with his claws.

“You asshole.” Stiles said through gritted teeth.

David was leaning weakly against the wall behind the wolf, and he thought quickly. He picked up the chair Stiles had been tied into, and threw it over the wolf’s head. It splintered, and caused no harm to the wolf, but it did get his attention away from Stiles. The wolf let go of Stiles and turned to David. Stiles thought quickly and picked up one of the chair splinters and he gave David a nod before coming up behind the wolf as quickly as he could, and ramming the sharp piece of wood into the eye socket of the wolf.

The wolf let out a howl of pain, and Stiles pushed the wood in further, until the wolf stopped moving in his arms. The blood dripped from the wound and onto Stiles’ hands, but he didn’t care. Stiles limped over to David and pulled his arm over Stiles’ shoulders, getting him to lean on him when they walked. They went to leave the still open room door but were stopped by Cole, who stopped and stared at them from the doorway, his expression an odd mix of amusement and frustration.

“A valiant effort,” Cole applauded sarcastically and stepped into the room, Stiles and David hobbling back a few steps. Cole kicked at the body of the wolf and gave Stiles and impressed smirk. “Interesting execution, I should thank you. He was a handful,” Cole laughed and Stiles gritted his teeth. The sick bastard was enjoying it.

“Let us go you fucking maniac!” David let out the curse and Stiles was taken aback as to the sheer desperation and ferocity in his tone.

“And why would I do that?” Cole asked, an eyebrow raising at the question. Stiles let out a growl and he sat David down next to the wall.

“What’s the point of keeping us here if you have no use for us? Nothing past using us as punching bags, that is.” Stiles spat.

“Who said I don’t have a use for you?” Cole stepped forward and Stiles flinched, but didn’t move. “Maybe I’m…breaking you in.” He laughed and stopped barely an inch in front of Stiles, their heights matching but Cole’s demeanour more authoritative.

“Hate to break it to you, but there’s no way we’re working for you.” Stiles stated.

“Well, aren’t you making a lot of assumptions today?” Cole shook his head and laughed, “Anything you do for me, won’t be done willingly. Keep that in mind.” Cole turned and walked out, the door closing behind him.

“Shit.” Stiles slumped on the ground next to David.

“Well, we tried.” David supplied with a hopeful smile. Stiles wasn’t convinced and he shook his head with a sigh. “Better make sure he doesn’t wake up,” David kicked the dead werewolf with his foot and Stiles nodded.

“The last thing we need is a zombie werewolf.” He slowly got to his feet and went to make sure their little wolf problem was secure.

* * *

Carson walked into the house covered in blood, with a wound on her arm. She’d fallen, but Tanvi went to make sure she hadn’t been scratched or bitten during her lone altercation with a hoard of zombies. There were still around a dozen roaming the area, which was Tyler’s fault initially, but if they didn’t leave the house or make too much noise for a few days, the zombies would likely move on.

“Are you okay?” Tanvi asked as she stitched up Carson’s wound.

“Just fine.” Carson frowned and shook her head. “We need Stiles and David.”

“Yeah…Is he a good leader? Stiles?” Tanvi asked. Carson gave her a look but nodded.

“He’s a bit…intense sometimes, but he knows what he’s doing. He’s apparently been through some shit,” Carson shrugged and flinched when Tanvi pushed the needle through her skin,

“He seems almost…made for this life, this world,” Tanvi mused, her thoughts getting the best of her and her hard exterior slipping when around the other woman,

“I guess,” Carson frowned, “why’re you so interested in Stiles?”

“He’s a good man, but has a dark heart.” Tanvi stated and Carson furrowed her eyebrows at the words.

“I don’t think I understand…”

“Nothing, it’s just something I observed.” Tanvi finished stitching up Carson and patted her on the shoulder. “Let me just clean this up and you can go downstairs to get some food.”

“Thanks, Tanvi,” Carson smiled and Tanvi returned the gesture,

“No problem, but…” She trailed off and bit her lip, “We need to figure out how to get them back.”

“When the hoard around the house clears out, I’m going to march up to that factory and demand Cole hand our people back.” Carson told her.

“That didn’t work with David, why would it work now?” Tanvi asked with a frown.

“Because, I’ve got a trick up my sleeve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter, I hope you guys don't mind, but I have a chapter plan right now, and I couldn't find too much to fill the space. Next chapter will be a bit more action-filled, and will include a time jump of around 4 or 5 days.


	8. True Friends Come With a Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days, and Stiles and David are tired of being kidnapped.

With a shotgun slung over her shoulder and a pistol at her hip, Carson approached the factory with caution. She was alone, and kept a steely gaze at the fence separating the factory from the road. Zombies roamed around behind her, but weren’t enough of a problem for her to worry. Instead, her attention was on the fence gates as they opened, John Cole stepping out being flanked by two werewolves, eyes glowing and guns in hand.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Cole stated, holding his hand up to stop Carson as she had approached close enough. She stopped and kept her hand on her hip holster.

“You know what I want, so let’s make this easy.” Carson said, eyes cold as she stared into Cole’s.

“Not going to happen,” Cole shook his head, “you’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?” Carson raised an eyebrow and a red dot appeared on Cole’s forehead, “I’m pretty sure a werewolf can’t heal from a shot to the head.” She smirked and Cole frowned. Carson sent a glance behind her to a building standing taller than the others in the area, Tanvi on the roof with a sniper rifle.

“I’m not giving them back. It’s good for pack morale when they have someone to beat up after a stressful day,” Cole laughed and Carson scowled.

“My friend up there has wolfsbane bullets, I don’t think you’d like a shot to even the arm with one of those,” Carson’s eyes darkened and Cole faltered slightly.

“How did you-“ He caught himself and snarled.

“I never said I didn’t know about werewolves already,” Carson watched as Cole stepped a half-step back, slightly intimidated, “I’m always prepared.” She finished.

“What makes you think your threats will get me to release your friends?” Cole asked with a wild eyed smirk, not paying attention to loud bangs from inside the factory.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, but what it does do, is distract you, because I don’t know Stiles that well, but I know him well enough to know he’d take advantage of the fact you’re not currently in the building.” Carson explained with a grin on her face. Cole’s eyes turned stormy and he went to turn around, the sounds of gunshots inside moments earlier suddenly registering, only for the barrel of a gun to be pressed against his forehead.

Stiles stood behind him, eyes sunken and face gaunt but expression cold. David held a gun behind him, barely standing but expression murderous as he faced the wolves around him. The smirk on Stiles’ lips was unnerving, the faint twitch of his trigger finger even more so. His lack of shaking hands and his stiff posture telling of his intent.

“Hey _John_.” Stiles drawled out, the usage of Cole’s first name foreign on his tongue but sharp enough to shock. Cole stepped back into one of his werewolves, who had put his gun on the ground to surrender.

“Just go!” Cole exclaimed, swallowing nervously once he fully realised Stiles and his group had control over the situation.

“Thanks, but I’m not finished here,” Stiles snarled, “Get to your knees, asshole.” He growled, Cole doing as he was told. Carson gestured at Cole’s werewolves to leave and they did without hesitation. Cole went to turn around with a swipe of his claws, but David’s gun trained on him immediately.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” David said in a surprisingly calm tone.

“You want to say something before I blow your brains out?” Stiles asked casually, “I’d do what you did to us, but I’m afraid I don’t quite have the time for that, so simply killing you should do.”

“Fuck you.” Cole spat.

“Well, as last words go they aren’t the worst,” Stiles shrugged before glancing at David, “Do you want to do the honours?” He asked. David gave him a look but shook his head. Stiles nodded and looked back at Cole, eyes staring into his in the most personal way of executing someone. Usually the one on their knees faced away from the one with the weapon, but Stiles didn’t want that.

Stiles knew that he could be a vengeful and sadistic bastard when he wanted to be, and he knew that some days he was more of a monster than a werewolf, and he was at the point where it wasn’t his priority to shove down those impulses. He didn’t care that he wanted revenge, didn’t care that he would have preferred to mercilessly torture Cole on end for days before putting him down, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about what those thoughts, those actions were doing to his head when he pulled the trigger.

Cole’s head snapped back with the force of the close-range shot and soon his body crumpled to the ground. The smile that appeared on Stiles’ face didn’t go unnoticed, but nobody said anything.

* * *

Earlier

* * *

Stiles groaned as he sat up against the cold wall of the room. David was across from him, nursing a broken arm and his head against the wall as he dealt with a concussion. It had been days, maybe a week or two, Stiles was certain about that one. His main method of telling the time was his facial hair growth, and even his hair was a big shaggier than normal. He resigned himself to thinking of the choppy haircut and beard trim with a knife he was going to have to do once he eventually got out of the kidnapping situation.

Outside, the normal groans of the undead echoed, but there were added voices. Stiles could hear Cole clearly as he spoke, and a feminine voice that was slightly out of range for him to hear words. He perked up at the voices and got to his feet slowly. Cole was out of the building.

“Can you get up?” Stiles asked David, who shakily got to his feet.

“I can’t guarantee I can move around too well, though. Why?” David narrowed his eyes at Stiles, who grabbed a discarded splinter of the broken chair and a screwdriver from a corner of the room that was left over from one of the torture sessions.

“Cole’s not in the building, and I think someone from our camp is here,” Stiles said, “I can hear the voices.”

“So what does that mean for us?” David asked. Stiles walked over to the door, which was a large wooden door with a slightly rusted handle.

“We can get out.” Stiles knelt and began to fiddle with the screws on the door handle. The knob came off, exposing the inner workings of the locking mechanism. David watched on in interest as Stiles moved the screwdriver inside the mechanism, trying to get it to unlock.

“How do you know how to do this?” David asked.

“My dad’s a cop, and I was the ‘rebel’ child always getting into trouble. Of course I know how to get out of a locked room.” Stiles told him with a laugh.

The lock clicked open and Stiles got to his feet and gripped the screwdriver like a knife. He opened the door slightly, wincing at the creak it made, and peered out the door. At the end of the hall were two guards with guns in their hands. Stiles looked down at the wood splinter in his other hand and then gave it to David.

“What now?” David whispered as he glanced out the door.

“Hand me something small and metal.” Stiles told him.

David went around the room to find something, eventually coming back with a few coins in his hands. Stiles gave him a mischievous smile as he threw the coins down the other side of the L-shaped hall, so the guards would hear the coins and go to investigate, leaving their backs turned to the door. Hopefully they weren’t werewolf guards that were listening to everything the were saying.

Stiles could hear the guards talking once they heard the coins, one of them leaving his post to investigate while the other stayed in place. Stiles cursed lightly under his breath but decided to take what he could get. He left the room and came up behind the guard, who turned around in time for Stiles to stick the screwdriver in through his eye. The guard growled and his good eye flared blue. So they were werewolves. Stiles didn’t pay attention to the hand gripping his arm with clawed nails, he simple gritted his teeth through the pain and pushed the screwdriver further until the wolf went limp. Stiles dropped the screwdriver, and in turn the body, to pick up the discarded gun - a semi-automatic rifle - that had been dropped when the wolf had decided close-quarters would - wrongly - save him.

“Let’s go, stay behind me.” Stiles said to David in a hushed tone. David did as Stiles said and they rounded the corner.

Stiles didn’t hesitate to throw shots at the wolf standing at the end of the hall, and he was lucky to nab him in the head quick enough. Stiles picked up the other gun and handed it to David. The shots were going to bring more of Cole’s pack to him, so he pulled David with him to move quickly. He ran through a door, coming out into the main factory floor, running to cover behind a machine. Around seven wolves stood around with guns raised, clearly alert. About five more came downstairs from the lofted portion of the factory. Stiles cursed and gripped his gun tighter.

“Come on out little red…” One wolf called, his voice echoing. Stiles bit his lip and broke cover to shoot, nailing two in the head and one in the shoulder.

Stiles ducked to another piece of machinery to hide behind as soon as shots started flying. Stiles looked over to check David, and saw that he had left cover to start shooting, seemingly out of the mindset of IT support not capable of anything actively involved, and into the mindset of a survivor, who had one goal and one goal only. Stiles watched on proudly for a moment before going back to shooting. Soon, they downed all wolves that had come by and they broke cover to inspect for any good weapons. Most had been run down of ammo, but they found two good guns to bring with them.

They walked outside as quietly as possible, seeing that Carson was talking with Cole, who seemed a bit on the nervous side. Stiles took his chance and when Cole went to turn around, Stiles pressed his gun against his forehead.

“Hey _John._” Stiles smirked.

* * *

“We’re at a farm now, the motel got too dangerous.” Carson informed them as they began walking back to where she and Tanvi had parked the car they were using. Carson supported David as they walked, while Tanvi helped Stiles.

“Is it safer?” Stiles asked, gritting his teeth when he moved in a way to hurt his wounds.

“Marginally. For now,” Tanvi stated,

“Tyler didn’t help,” Carson sighed, “A few days ago he wandered into the woods with a gun and took down a corpse, bringing a hoard around the house. Luckily we had enough food and water to last us a few days while we waited the hoard out. They got distracted by something else and moved on eventually.” She explained. They came to the car and they helped both men into the back seats.

“I was thinking…” David trailed off when they began driving, Stiles giving him a look, “Now, more than ever, I want to go to Oklahoma. I need to know if my family is okay.” He eyed Stiles who understood more than anyone.

“When you two are okay, we can make the trip,” Carson said, looking through the rear-view mirror at Stiles, who gave her a slight nod, “It’ll be a few days, maybe a week or two, but we can get there.”

“The longer we wait…” David frowned and shook his head, “no, it’s okay.” He muttered.

“We’ll get there.” Stiles promised. David gave him a nod and looked out the window for the rest of the trip.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, spent watching the zombies chase after their car until they couldn’t, or watching the changing landscape, from an industrial area, to a small town, to the country, where Carson pulled into an acreage. She drove down the long driveway and stopped when they came to a fence that looked recently built. It wasn’t much, but it stopped the stragglers, as Carson explained. Robin and Kyle were standing on either side of the fence gates, and opened them so the car could get through, closing them after. Carson brought the car to a stop and she and Tanvi got out, moving to help Stiles and David get out too.

“I got it, I got it.” Stiles waved Tanvi off as he slowly got out of the car, his legs shaky as he did so. He got to his feet, then let Tanvi help him get up the stairs to the house. Carson was having more trouble with David, but Robin helped. Kyle simply stayed at the gates, a gun in hand as it was clearly his shift on watch. “Seems you’ve got a tight ship going here,” Stiles commented,

“Henry’s doing. He got the fence built with Kyle, Josh, Samuel and Tyler. He also made up a whole shift schedule on who’s on watch every day, every night. It’s good. He did good.” Carson explained as she and David caught up, Robin going back to her post.

“That’s good.” Stiles nodded. They came to the front door of the house and it opened before anyone could knock, Tyler greeting them with a grin and an excited yell.

“You’re back! You’re okay!” Tyler lurched forward and hugged Stiles, who let out a groan of pain. Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he pulled himself off Stiles and went to hug David.

“Tyler, let them get inside,” Samuel walked out with a shake of his head. He held his hand out to Stiles for him to shake, and Stiles did so, “good to see you,” he said with a warm smile. He did the same to David, who shook his hand almost desperately, “you too.”

“It’s so nice to see you guys,” Stiles admitted as Tanvi led him into the house, getting him settled on the couch in the living room where Julia sat with Hailey, playing a game of checkers, and Ross asleep in a recliner. David was brought to a bedroom where he would get his wounds tended to by Emma and Tanvi, his wounds worse than Stiles’. Henry walked out of the kitchen and greeted Stiles, sitting next to him on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” Henry asked.

“Awful, but relieved to be out of there.” Stiles told him with a thin smile.

“How’s David?”

“Hanging on.” Stiles looked over to the half-closed door where he could barely see Tanvi stitching a wound on David’s leg.

“Are you going to go in next? Get your wounds stitched up?” Henry asked with a curious glance over at the bedroom.

“Probably. Though, I’m not sure what it’s going to do for my face,” He laughed humourlessly and gestured vaguely to his face, the cuts in the process of healing, scar tissue already starting to from on the cut on his jaw and neck, but already formed on the one over his eyebrow.

“I don’t think those are the wounds they’re worried about.” Henry offered with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, “I’ve heard good things about how you’ve run things in my…absence,” he quirked an eyebrow and Henry frowned, looking down.

“It’s been hard, but I tried,” Henry stated,

“You did good,” Stiles clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, “besides, I’m in no shape to lead this group anywhere right now, so you can continue with what you’re doing.”

“Are you sure?” Henry asked with a frown and furrowed brows, “I can step down if you-“

“Don’t. I have enough on my plate right now. You’re doing a good job, a great one even, and I don’t want to break that up.” Stiles stared at Henry, his eyes slightly wide but serious as he spoke.

“Okay,” Henry gave him a nod, “thank you.”

“You’ll do great,” Stiles smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they're out! Hope this chapter was a good one, the next one will be another time jump, just so I can get past Stiles and David healing. It'll also take place in Oklahoma. We're slowly moving through the plot, and I've got a few more several-chapter long antagonists to go before BH even comes into the picture. It'll be fun! 😂
> 
> Also: Updates are going to be once a week until further notice. I've hit a lot of assignments at uni so I've go not time to write. I wish I could, but that's life. Sorry!


	9. The Things We Bury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group travels to Oklahoma City

Three weeks. That was all it took for things to get better. Stiles and Henry were leading the group together, more efficiently than ever, and Tanvi and her group were cemented as a part of their group. Even Hailey had mellowed. At first she complained about lack of hygiene, or ugly clothes, but it only took patience and some tolerance from everyone around her, and she was soon an instrumental part of their camp, surprising everyone with her ferocity in protecting the camp. Henry reluctantly let her get shooting lessons with Carson before putting her on group watch. Julia had come out of her shell, and was helping Josh with things that needed fixing around the camp. Turned out she was quite handy. Even Tyler was helping as best he could. The thirteen year old had taken to shadowing Stiles whenever he did anything around the camp.

David had healed up, but was left with a temporary limp. Not surprisingly, it was Carson by his side, and Stiles suspected something was going on with the two. He didn’t say anything, of course, because David needed someone, and Carson was a good balance for him. He was shy by nature, softer and unsure, while she was confident, stubborn and all sharp edges, and almost everything he wasn’t. David was getting there, though, he’d gotten over his initial fears surrounding the sudden apocalypse, and was all too eager to go out on runs with Stiles. Stiles, however, wasn’t rushing him. He knew the kinds of things days of torture could do to a person, he was no stranger to it.

Stiles soon found returning to Beacon Hills a distant goal in his mind. It was still there, and wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, or as long as he stayed alive, but the need to help his camp - _his people_ \- and to survive, was outweighing his own desires to see his friends and family again. He didn’t think it was a bad thing, per se, and he couldn’t wait to get back to Beacon Hills, get back _home_, but for now, he had other people to worry about.

“Hey,” Tanvi walked into Stiles’ room at the farmhouse, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a backpack in the other, “you ready to head out?” She asked.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” Stiles grunted as he tried to pull his shirt over his head, his bruised ribs being the last thing to heal.

“Let me help.” Tanvi set down the bags and gently pulled the shirt from his body. “Do you need help with the other shirt?” She grabbed the one he had pulled from his bag.

“No, I’m okay.” He gave her a sharp smile, but it was genuine, as she tossed him the shirt.

Stiles pulled the dark blue henley over his head and slowly manoeuvred his arms to fit. Tanvi watched as he struggled with one arm, but ultimately got himself in a predicament with one arm through, the other stuck. He let out an annoyed sigh as Tanvi laughed at him, while he gestured with his other hand for her to help. Tanvi rolled her eyes and nodded, going to help him put his other arm through.

“Well, thanks.” Stiles let out a puff of air before sharing an amused smirk with Tanvi.

“Anytime,” Tanvi laughed,

“Well, you’ve settled in nicely,” Stiles said to which Tanvi nodded and smiled,

“Robin and Kyle are still trying, but don’t exactly _fit_, you know?” She asked, Stiles nodding, “Emma’s just…well, Emma. She doesn’t like people very much, and Josh, well he’s doing good,” Tanvi sighed, “we heading to Oklahoma today?”

“Yep,” Stiles stood, winced but grabbed his duffel bag, “David’s all too eager.”

“Well, he may still have family left, I can understand why he’d be eager to find them.” She shrugged, and Stiles mirrored her.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I’m trying to get back home too, but that’s a distant goal in the current situation. I mean, it’s been like two months since this started, and I would’ve been home by now if we hadn’t have run into, well…” He gestured wildly but grunted in annoyance, “If I didn’t have people around me, I’d be home.” He added with a sigh.

“Maybe. Or you’d be dead,” Tanvi stated with crossed arms. Stiles just shrugged and shook his head.

“Yeah, maybe.” He sighed and looked to the door, “Let’s go, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tanvi nodded and followed Stiles out the door.

They walked downstairs and out into the yard, where Henry had gathered everyone and was allocating people between three cars. Stiles, David, Carson, Tanvi and Josh all piled into a five seater pickup. Ross, Julia, Samuel, Tyler and Emma were allocated to a sedan, while Henry, Hailey, Robin, George and Kyle were put into another five seater pickup.

“You ready?” Stiles asked David, who nodded quickly in anticipation.

“Let’s go.” David gave Stiles a thin smile.

Soon, all three cars were making their way away from the farm, and towards Oklahoma. Carson held a map, directing Stiles where to go, while Tanvi and Josh, who knew the area the most, directed where Carson couldn’t. David had his head against the window, never speaking a word, as they made their way past the destruction and the zombies that came out of it.

Around two hours into their drive, they encountered a road blockage. A line of cars blocked both sides of the road, debris where the cars weren’t. It was a military blockade, a tank amongst the vehicles and walking corpses in riot gear and military fatigues. Stiles slowed the pickup to a stop, glancing into the rear view mirror as the following cars from their group did the same. The zombies were immediately drawn to the cars, and a small group clawed at the windows of the pickup.

“What do we do?” Josh asked, panic evident in his voice.

“Nothing,” Tanvi replied, but Stiles shook his head,

“Everyone got their guns?” Stiles glanced around the car, everyone nodding and holding up their respective weapons, “I’m going to put this car in reverse, shake the corpses off, then run them over. The stragglers we can shoot.” Stiles stated confidently.

Stiles put the car into reverse and took a deep breath. He put his foot down on the accelerator and the pickup lurched backwards. The zombies struggled to hold on, and most of them slipped off. Stiles then threw the car into drive and pressed forward. The zombies immediately in his path were under the pickup almost as soon as he drove forward. The hoard around the pickup thinned out nicely, and Carson rolled down the passenger window to stick her gun out. She took a few shots, downing three that walked quicker than the others. David, from his spot in the back seat behind Stiles, rolled down his own window and begun taking shots. Tanvi, from the other side, did the same.

“Shit!” Carson cursed as a zombie got close enough to stick its hand inside. She pulled her knife from her belt and swung at the arm forcefully. Black blood splattered into the car, but none of them minded as Carson soon lopped off the arm. She then shot the offending zombie and went back to thinning the others.

“If we shoot too much, more’ll come!” Tanvi exclaimed.

“Yep.” Stiles gritted his teeth and continued to run over any zombies he could. He looked back momentarily and saw that the others in the other two cars were doing the same thing, taking after them.

“We need to get around them.” Carson stated as she shot another.

“The road’s blocked!” David exclaimed with wild eyes.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice that.” Stiles rolled his eyes and spun the pickup around to clip three zombies.

“That tank would be nice. The riot gear too, you know?” Josh pondered,

“Sure, but while we’re being swarmed by corpses, I wouldn’t go and run after any of that.” Stiles said quickly. “I’m going to turn around, we can’t win this.” He eyed the blockade where a large hoard started to emerge.

“Let’s hope the others realise that too,” Carson rolled up her window and tightened her lips together. Tanvi and David rolled up their windows and Stiles turned the pick back to where they came from and floored the accelerator.

“Are the others following?” Stiles asked. Carson turned around to look behind them and smiled in relief.

“Yeah, they are.” She nodded.

They sat in silence for the next few hours of driving. Stiles found a way around the blockade, and the group were soon back on track to Oklahoma. During the drive, they didn’t encounter any more major problems until they hit the outskirts of Oklahoma City. David’s family lived relatively close to the middle, just north of the river and across the street from an elementary school. The problem was that it was a city with a population of over six hundred, thousand people, which meant hundreds of thousands of zombies walking around.

The group stopped on the outskirts of the city at a church sitting on a road that lead straight into it, and almost directly lead to David’s house. All three cars pulled up and they all got out, careful to be quiet so they could slip into the church for the night. They’d been driving for hours and it was nearly dark. Stiles gathered Carson, Tanvi and Henry to clear the church, each of them grabbing their respective weapons, none of them guns.

“Alright, we move in on my signal.” Henry whispered and the others nodded. They moved up so they were right next to the doors to the church and Henry mouthed out a countdown before signalling with his hand to move in.

Stiles and Henry opened the doors while Tanvi and Carson moved inside first. Immediately inside the main hall of the church, a group of around six zombies turned to face them. All the zombies were wearing church clothes, and their causes of death seemed clear in that moment. The one that was roaming around the top level of the church had a long, golden candlestick through its stomach, another had a knife to the neck, and the others a mixture of bites and gunshot wounds to the chest.

They didn’t wonder for very long, instead Carson and Tanvi both took the first shots. Carson sent an arrow from her crossbow while Tanvi slashed her machete into the head of one of them. Stiles and Henry moved in after that and used a knife, and David’s crowbar, to finish the last of the zombies. Shuffling feet from behind got them turn quickly and the sight of a large zombie, jaw unhinged on one side, flesh rotting away and hair falling out of its skull. It had eyes that were wide, bugged and bloodshot, yellowed whites and pin-prick pupils.

Only after a second of looking over the zombie, it had a hatchet in its head. The zombie fell to its knees, then the ground, exposing David behind it with black blood splattered onto his face and clothes, his eyes sunken and tired. He pulled the hatchet out of the zombie and stepped over it, walking to a pew to lay down. He let out a sigh and eyed the group that were staring at him.

“I’m tired of this shit.” Was all he said before closing his eyes.

Stiles shook his head in slight worry before turning back to the others and telling them to make sure the area was secure. Past that, it was telling them to get some sleep. Stiles then walked outside to the others and quickly ushered them inside to get them settled. Once the doors to the church were closed and reinforced with four pews, a cabinet and a relatively large wooden cross, everyone felt a little safer. Henry, Carson and Tanvi returned from the back rooms, stating that the church was secure and they could sleep, and suddenly the overall mood inside was a bit cheerier than it was.

Stiles directed Samuel and Tyler to to one of the back rooms, an office with a relatively comfortable couch. Ross took one of the other offices to himself, while the rest of their group took their chances in the main hall. Stiles found his spot closest to the door. It was a strategic placement. The door was close by, so was a window he could get out of if need be, and he was also situated in front of his group, so he could protect them if he had to.

The night went smoothly, though, with no need for Stiles to protect the group.

* * *

Going into Oklahoma City was dangerous for anybody, but Stiles and Henry weren’t going to risk everyone going. Henry said he’d stay with the group at the church to protect them, while Stiles, David, Carson and Tanvi made their way into the city. They went on foot to minimise the risk that they’d be heard and swarmed, but it was still a situation more dangerous than any they’d been on the entire two months of the apocalypse.

They kept to the main road, David leading the way. They were watching all sides, making sure they weren’t going to be swarmed. They each carried their guns as well as their silent weapons. Their guns were only to be used for emergencies, but Stiles knew that it’d be more tempting to start shooting in a city with a lot of corpses walking around.

David was determined, and Stiles was worried. He was walking ahead, his pace fast and full of purpose, the others struggling to keep up. He had a shotgun over his shoulder and his crowbar in one hand and ever step he took was a step towards his family. Stiles had given up on getting David to slow down, and instead was watching for any zombies. They’d passed small groups that barely paid attention to them, and stragglers that were in their way, but no large groups like Stiles was expecting.

That was, until they got closer to the heart of the city. A hoard larger than any they’d faced was standing in their way. Stiles pulled David back and the group took cover in a shop. Thankfully, the shop was empty, allowing them to make a plan as to what would come next. David was inching to go ahead and take his chances, but Stiles positioned himself at the door so he could stop David from getting past.

“How’re we getting through that then?” David grunted, taking a seat on the register counter.

“I have an idea,” Carson’s eyes lit up with mischief and all eyes were on her, “I’ll go steal a car. The car alarm should help get the zombies away from where we need to go.”

“Do that,” Stiles nodded, he then looked to Tanvi, “go with her? Maybe fire a few shots if they’re not responding. When you’ve gotten far enough away, get back to the church.” Tanvi nodded and Stiles let both of them outside.

“What do we do?” David huffed.

“We wait.” Stiles shrugged.

Within minutes, a car alarm sounded nearby, as did several shots, and Stiles peered out the door to the shop. He saw Carson and Tanvi in a car lead the zombies away slowly, stopping ever few seconds so they could catch up. Once Carson and Tanvi got far enough away with the majority of the hoard following behind them, Stiles ushered David outside.

They ran down the road, not stopping to look back and only stalling to kill zombies in their path. They got relatively far down the road when David tapped Stiles on the shoulder and they turned away from the main road and down a side-street. David lead the way once again, both of them walking as slowly and as quiet as they could. When they came to the elementary school, the grounds were packed full of students who hadn’t survived. David let out a small yelp but pulled Stiles into a house just across from the school.

Once inside the house, Stiles stayed at the door while David walked around slowly. The living room was a mess. Couches had been pulled apart and turned over, glass was shattered, pictures from the walls on the ground and broken roof tiles from a hole in the roof sat on the carpet. The kitchen wasn’t much better, with all the cabinets open or broken off the walls, glass cups shattered or lying on their sides, ceramic plates smashed onto the ground and cutlery everywhere. The fridge door was open and hanging off the hinges, what was left of the food inside mouldy.

David made his way down the hallway, fingers lightly touching the photos that still hung. Photos of David’s graduation, of his younger sister’s birthday, family photos from vacations and even an old photo or two of his parents. Stiles trailed after David as he walked into his old bedroom. The walls were blue and the carpet a stained white. Grey plaid curtains hung over the window, and posters from video games, movies, television shows and comic books still stuck with the blu-tack that had dried onto the plaster. A box of DvDs had been pulled out from under the bed, lid removed and placed somewhere else on the floor. David looked around and let out a sigh.

“I miss it here.” He stated.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded.

David walked out of the room and across the hall to his parents’ bedroom. Stiles hung back and watched David take in the mess left behind. There were holes in the walls, and most disturbingly, blood stains on the bed. David gulped, shook his head and walked into the ensuite bathroom. He had to check everywhere. To his relief, thew ensuite was as clean as he last saw it, so he moved on.

The last stop was his sister’s bedroom. David had talked about her a lot during his time as Stiles’ roommate. Her name was Lisa, and David called her the smartest person he’d ever met, and the kindest. She was supposed to graduate high school at the end of the year, something she’d never get to do. Stiles watched as David slowly opened the door to her room. What was inside, had David struggling to stand.

“Lisa?” Was the barely-audible cry that Stiles heard from the hallway, the snarling from inside the room telling as to what David had seen.

Stiles looked over David’s shoulder, eyes glued to the form of Lisa Yen. Her skin was grey, eyes bloodshot and cloudy, almost glowing in the dark light of her bedroom. A patch of skin on her neck was bloody, looking to be from a bite wound, and one of her arms was sitting in the fish tank next to her bed, the arm itself bloated and soft, the fish inside long dead. Her other arm was reaching towards the door, hands positioned and ready to claw at whoever came near. One of her legs was pinned under her bed, which had been turned on its side, and she struggled to get free to claim a victim or two.

“David…” Stiles trailed off and frowned. David’s grip on his crowbar tightened and he moved to either leave or put his sister out of her misery. “Don’t use the crowbar,” Stiles began, gently pulling the weapon out of David’s hands and placing a knife in them instead, “a knife will be easier.” David didn’t say a word but nodded.

He slowly moved towards Lisa, and looked into her eyes. He let out a breath, a tear and a murmur of ‘I’m sorry’ before he plunged the knife through her temple, the remnants of Lisa’s body going slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some set-ups happening in this one. Some people are getting closer, while others are drifting further apart. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group comes upon a familiar face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, the cast list
> 
> Carson - Katherine McNamara (Red hair and freckles)  
David - Ryan Potter  
Tanvi - Parveen Kaur (She's a bit older than I would have liked, but Tanvi looks close enough)  
Hailey - Peyton List  
Julia - India Eilsey  
Henry - Chris O’Donnell  
Emma - Willa Holland  
Robin - Maddie Hasson  
Josh - Tye White  
George - Freddie Highmore  
Kyle - Dacre Montgomery  
Samuel - James Marsdon  
Tyler - Jet Jurgensmeyer

The mood at the church was somber. Stiles and David had returned, David immediately leaving for a secluded room at the back. Carson followed him, and neither were seen until the morning. Stiles found himself sitting on a pew, staring at the crucifix that stood high above the lectern. Stiles wasn’t exactly a believer, but with all he’d seen, from monsters to demons, he couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility of some higher power working behind the scenes. He closed his eyes for only a second, the words never leaving his mouth. He sent a silent request to whatever listened. He wanted everyone to get somewhere safe, to be okay and to live fulfilling lives. Stiles was getting desperate.

“You okay?” Tanvi walked over and sat next to Stiles. Stiles gave her a small smile and nodded, his eyes slightly glassy as he did.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Stiles looked back up at the crucifix, “just hoping for a miracle here,”

“You and me both,” Tanvi sighed and put her hand on Stiles’ in an act of comfort, “What do we do now? Are we going to California?”

“I think for now we should head that direction, but it’s not the priority. The priority is to find a place we can settle for a while,” Stiles told her, eyes narrowing as he looked back towards the door, “near the city isn’t a good place to be. It’s too much of a risk to be this close to a large population,”

“Got it.” Tanvi nodded. She looked down and pulled her hand away from Stiles’, clasping her hands together nervously. Stiles narrowed his eyes and looked at her eyes, the expression in them he couldn’t read.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked her softly. Tanvi looked up at him in surprise and shook her head.

“It’s nothing.” She stated firmly, standing up to leave. Stiles thrust his hand out and clasped her wrist gently.

“Tell me,” he said, his eyes never blinking as they stared into hers. Tanvi bit her lip and sat back down, Stiles moving his hand off her wrist.

“How do you deal with all this? The killing, the monsters, the-the _werewolves_!” She shook her head, “Never-mind…” She added with a sigh.

“When I was sixteen, my best friend was bitten by a werewolf,” Stiles began with a shrug, “it was my fault, really. I dragged him into the woods to look for a dead body because I was bored.” He scoffed and looked at his own hands that were clasped in his lap. “From then on, I dealt with supernatural hunters trying to kill my friends, the monster of the week trying to kill me and my friends, and the likes,” He shook his head slightly and glanced up at Tanvi, “as for the killing part…I was seventeen…” He trailed off and bit his lip, eyes drifting off to somewhere behind Tanvi, “My dad was kidnapped to be a sacrifice for this…I don’t even know how to explain it to someone who wasn’t there,” he barked a laugh, “closest thing I’d say is ‘witch lady’ but that’s not even true. Anyway, she took my dad and two of my friend’s parents to be sacrifices, and to save them, me, my best friend and the daughter of one of the hunters, another one of my friends, sacrificed ourselves instead to save our parents.” He looked back to the floor at the memories.

“What happened?” Tanvi asked softly.

“Sacrificing ourselves opened a…a door. A demon got in,” Stiles watched as Tanvi’s eyes widened slightly, “The demon, a dark fox, tricked everyone. He was inside my head, and he tricked them. He, in my body, killed people I liked. Deputies my dad worked with, my friend, the daughter of the hunter, a member of the pack, people at a hospital, it was awful,” Stiles shook his head and stood up to face Tanvi from above, “he killed people using my body, my face, and I remember all of it. I remember liking it, and it scared me. But a few years down the track and I kill again, to save my own life. It felt good when it happened, but after…after the guilt killed me,” He sat back down and put his head in his hands, “it killed me…” he trailed off.

“You’re barely dealing with it…” Tanvi trailed off at Stiles’ slight nod, “but you seem so calm,”

“Yeah… ‘seem’ being the operative word here,” Stiles sighed, “Don’t let any of that get out, okay?” Stiles eyed Tanvi who nodded, “They can’t…they can’t lose trust in me.”

“Okay,” Tanvi nodded, “You should get some rest if we’re going to move out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay…” Stiles stretched and let out a yawn. Tanvi stood from the pew as Stiles stretched out on it. Soon, Stiles was snoring lightly and Tanvi walked away.

* * *

“We’re out of gas,” Was not the first thing Stiles wanted to hear in the morning. Henry was checking the cars and found they were all about to be running on fumes, “we could probably get a few miles, but sooner or later they’re going to burn out.”

“Great.” Stiles groaned. He pulled his duffel bag over his shoulder and looked around the church. There were straggler zombies around, but not enough for them to worry.

“We should at least try and get away from the city,” Carson said with a sigh,

“Yeah. We’ll take the cars, see if we can find a place to stop and get gas. If we can’t, then we walk until we can find more cars,” Stiles threw his duffel bag into the back of the pickup and the others started loading up the cars with their bags, weapons and food.

“Where do we head?” Henry asked Stiles once they were all packed up.

“West. Maybe we can find a place to settle for a while. I’m sick of moving all the time,” Stiles told Henry, his eyes tired and unfocused. Henry nodded and patted Stiles on the shoulder in a supportive gesture.

“We’ll find somewhere.”

So they loaded everyone up and started to head west. Tanvi was driving in Stiles’ place, Carson still navigator in the passenger side. Stiles was in the back, head resting against the window as he nodded off, David and Josh beside him. The drive wasn’t long, only about an hour at the most. They surprisingly didn’t come across any gas stations, so they set out on foot. Stiles was heavy on his feet, his steps dragging as the events of the past months caught up with him. He was tired and ready to stop running. He was ready to stop the killing, but the new world called for more than it’d ever called for before. He was ready to collapse in a ditch and let the corpses get to him.

But he wouldn’t.

He still had family out there, friends. He knew they were alive, maybe not all of them but enough for Stiles to fight to see them again. The world would claim them all in the end, and he just wanted to see his father one last time at the very least, he wanted to see Scott, Lydia and whoever else was alive because he knew that within days not all of them would still be standing. He’d been delaying getting to Beacon Hills because he had people to protect, but he was tired. He just wanted to go home.

“Heads up,” Tanvi hissed and Stiles tense. The group was huddled together, sticking to the main roads where there wasn’t much cover for anything to jump them, but a small hoard of zombies approached from their left.

“Do we shoot?” Hailey asked, tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Not yet.” Stiles gritted his teeth and readied his knife.

Tanvi had her machete out, her body poised for a fight, Carson had her crossbow and David his crowbar, a disturbingly fierce expression on his face. Everyone else in the group had knives, even Tyler who fumbled with it awkwardly. The small hoard consisted of six zombies, one of them missing a partial arm, another missing half its face in what looked like an attempt to kill it that probably went south for the shooter. The hoard was slow, their feet shuffling as they approached, but their groans were loud.

Stiles was suddenly more awake, and he gripped his knife in anticipation. When they hoard got close enough, they struck. It was quick, Stiles stabbed one in the head, Tanvi cut another’s head in half, Carson and David downed others and Hailey even downed one. There was chaos, though, as Julia screamed, Ross groaning. Stiles turned quickly, seeing a zombie leaning over Ross’ side, blood dripping from its mouth and Stiles couldn’t tell whose blood it was. He was about to run over and stab it, when a knife came through its temple, causing it to still. The body dropped to the side and Tyler let out a whimper from the other side, still gripping the knife in his now bloody hands.

“Tyler!” Samuel ran over and hugged his son, letting the knife fall from his hands as Tyler sobbed quietly. Stiles walked over and helped Ross up, eyes wandering down to the blood on his side.

“Did it get you?” He asked. Ross shook his head,

“It just tore my shirt and dripped some blood. I’ll be okay.” Ross gave Stiles a tight smile and Stiles felt uneasy, but he let it go.

“Grandpa!” Julia ran over and hugged Ross tightly.

Stiles walked back to the main group, eyes skimming over everyone, making sure they weren’t hurt. Kyle and Robin were hugging, Kyle’s hand softly stroking Robin’s head, Carson and David were sitting next to each other on a fence, hands barely touching but both of them invading each other’s personal space. Josh was walking around with George, going around and helping everyone out, while Emma stood off to the side, blue eyes watching Stiles with curiosity. Henry was inspecting the bodies, making sure they stayed dead while Hailey stood guard with a shotgun in her arms.

“Well look what we have here!” A voice from behind them exclaimed. Everyone’s attention turned to the man who approached, a group of around nine others behind him, all of them pointing guns in their direction. Hailey aimed her shotgun at the men, and the other members of the group followed suit, Stiles pulling out his handgun.

“Who are you?” Stiles questioned with an expression on his face that could only be described as dangerous. The man was older, likely in his fifties with grey hair and a light beard, his blue eyes sparked with mischief and danger, and Stiles couldn’t help be reminded of Peter Hale.

“You could call me a friend if we all put our weapons down,” The man shrugged. Stiles didn’t put his gun down, and neither did anyone else, “well then, fair enough.”

“I asked you a question, best you answer it.” Stiles bared his teeth like an animal and the man seemed to get the idea of the general tone of the encounter.

“Call me Sarge,” He said, a smirk on his face that made Stiles not trust him one bit, “and I like the efficiency of your group. I watched that little show back there. You’ve even got the kids weaponised.” Sarge laughed and Stiles felt uneasy. He made a gesture with his hand and suddenly Sarge’s men had all clicked the safety off their guns, causing Stiles to step back in anticipation.

“Wait!” Came a call from inside the group. A man stepped forward, his head down, “I know him.” The man lifted his eyes and Stiles was simultaneously ecstatic and shocked.

Chris Argent stood in front of him, his hair buzzed but greying beard still the same. He looked older by experience and there were more lines on his face than there were before. He looked good, though, and alive, which was important to Stiles because it meant more people from Beacon Hills could be alive.

“Argent,” Stiles shook his head in disbelief and smiled, “man, for once I’m glad to see you!” He pulled Chris in for a hug, which the older man returned. They weren’t close, but it was the sheer surprise of encountering one another that prompted the reaction.

“Well…that changes things, doesn’t it.” Sarge made another hand gesture and his men stood down, their weapons lowering. Stiles’ group also hesitantly lowered their weapons.

“You’ve changed,” Chris commented with a laugh, to which Stiles responded with a hesitant one of his own as they pulled away from the hug.

“Yeah…” Stiles nodded awkwardly and looked back to his group, all of which were staring at the interaction.

“Sarge?” Chris looked back to the leader of his group and Sarge sighed.

“Do you all need a place to stay?” Sarge asked, to which Julia nodded furiously, “Well then, I’m offering you a place at my camp, there’s plenty of room!” Sarge grinned again, and any frustration from earlier was gone.

“Hang on, you were literally just about to kill us,” Stiles narrowed his eyes and Sarge shrugged,

“Survival tactic, bit since you know Chris, I’m letting you stay because I don’t want this guy on my bad side,” Sarge made a face and shook his head quickly, “what’s your name, kid?”

“Stiles.” Stiles frowned when Sarge let out a small laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sarge made a waving gesture with his hands and started walking, “Follow me my new friends!” Stiles raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Chris, who let out a sigh and a shake of his head.

“He’s eccentric. You get used to it,” Chris muttered before following Sarge.

Stiles and his group followed behind Sarge’s group, at a large enough distance for them to not hear what the other group was saying. Stiles had warning bells going off in his head, but he at least wanted to see how the situation played out. If Chris was with their group, then Stiles could at least trust that nothing would happen to them unless they did something to warrant a reaction. Either that, or Sarge was a delusional psychopath, but Stiles had only been around the guy for ten minutes, which wasn’t enough time to make that analysis.

“Do you trust him?” Tanvi asked as she walked close to Stiles,

“Not one bit.” Stiles frowned and Tanvi nodded, sharing the sentiment.

“He’s your friend, though? Argent.”

“Somewhat. He’s the father of my… my hunter friend.” He told her. Tanvi nodded, recalling the earlier conversation.

“So you’re happy to see him then?” Tanvi asked, pushing her hands into her pockets as they trailed behind Sarge’s group.

“Yeah, I guess,” Stiles breathed out the words, “I’m more wondering what it means for my friends, my family back home.”

“It’s maybe a sign that someone’s alive,” Tanvi told him with a small smile, to which Stiles returned.

“We’re here!” Sarge announced loudly.

They came to a stop outside an area next to a river. The terrain was flat and there were around two dozen RV’s arranged around a campfire. Around the RV’s was a wall made of cars, old fences and metal sheets with people standing watch on top of a landing that had been build just behind the wall. The area was fortified, and perfect. With one border on the river, any approachingzombies would be swept away by the current, and the other border heavily guarded. Sarge led them through the opening gate to the wall and came to a stop at the campfire. The people around them were women, children, men with guns that stood watch while younger men and the women worked. There was a young teenage girl who was chasing after a group of children under the age of five and an old woman hanging up clothes on a line between two RV’s. The area was so ideal that Stiles almost forgot about his distrust of Sarge.

“This place is amazing!” Tyler exclaimed, catching the eye of the teenage girl who sent a smile his way.

“Settle down, kiddo,” Samuel muttered into his son’s ear, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll get someone to get you all settled in some RV’s. Until then, you’re welcome to sit around the campfire, maybe help out wherever you see something worth doing, you know. If you’re going to stay here for any amount of time, make yourselves useful.” Sarge told them before walking off.

“This place is perfect,” Tanvi said as she and Stiles found a place around the campfire, “we could live here, or do something like this ourselves.”

“Where would we find two dozen RV’s?” Stiles raised a playful eyebrow at Tanvi who chuckled.

“A trailer park, dumbass,” She shook her head but smiled as she stared into the fire, “I may not trust Sarge, but he’s got a good setup going.”

“Yeah, we can give him a little credit for that,” Stiles shrugged. “how’re you doing?”

“I’m good, just a bit tired, you know?”

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded and bit his lip, eyes watching Tanvi’s face as she watched the fire.

“Are you wanting something?” Tanvi turned her head to look at Stiles, a smirk plastered on her lips.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Stiles frowned and looked at his hands which were clasped in his lap, “I have a girlfriend. I think. I don’t know if she’s still alive, but I hope she is,” He told Tanvi with a sigh, “I don’t want to…I don’t know. I don’t want to mess that up if I can help it.”

“She doesn’t have to know if she’s still alive,” Tanvi shrugged, turning back to the fire.

“Yeah…I…” Stiles trailed off and shook his head, standing up. “I’m going to try and help out.” He said awkwardly before leaving Tanvi alone in front of the fire.

* * *

Ross coughed into his hand, causing him to come to a stop and lean against an RV for support. He pulled his hand away once he was finished coughing, eyes widening at the blood that stained his palm. He looked down at his torn and bloodied shirt, his expression growing sad. He quickly wiped the blood on the shirt and continued on his way. He sat next to Julia near the fire, and she greeted him with a smile.

“Hey grandpa,” She said,

“Hi sweetheart,” Ross smiled and pulled Julia into a hug.

“We should get you a new shirt,” She frowned and pulled away, “the blood’s a little unsightly.”

“What do you suggest?” Ross asked and Julia got to her feet, pulling Ross up with her.

“Come on,” She led Ross around to where a group of people talked. Julia tapped a young woman on the shoulder and smiled politely. “Excuse me, do you happen to know where my grandfather and I can go, and where he can change his shirt?” She asked. The woman looked at Ross’ shirt, then at Julia.

“Yeah, sure, just follow me,” She left them to an RV where she handed Ross a clean shirt, “If you need anything more, just ask me. I’m Sasha.” She smiled and walked out of the RV.

“See, easy as that.” Julia said, holding up the shirt Sasha had given Ross.

“You can wait outside and I’ll just-“ He cut himself off as a cough came to the surface. Julia watched in concern and her eyes widened when she saw the blood.

“Grandpa?” Julia locked eyes with Ross and his sadness was suddenly shown in full force. She stepped backwards until she was at the door of the RV, “Why are you sick?”

“Julia…” Ross attempted to step forward, but another cough forced him to stay in once place. This time more blood came from his mouth, but it didn’t stop when the cough did, it began to just trickle from the corner of his mouth. His eyes had also gradually become bloodshot, and Julia quickly exited the RV, pushing a large nearby box in front of the door to stop him from getting out.

Julia ran over to where her group was primarily hanging around, sobbing while she ran. She fell into Stiles’ arms and tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t get a coherent sentence out as she pointed frantically towards the RV where Ross was locked inside. Stiles looked towards where she was pointing just as a bloody handprint appeared on one of the windows. His eyes hardened and a range of thoughts flurried through his head.

He shouldn’t have let it go when Ross said he was okay.

Stiles handed Julia off to Carson, and he took his handgun out of his holster. He walked quickly over to the RV and stopped in front of the door. There was no movement from inside, and he had to be extremely careful when he opened the door. A young woman, the same one who helped Ross and Julia, walked purposefully up to Stiles, her face one of thunder, and she came to a stop barely an inch from his face.

“What do you think you’re doing? You people are guests here, and we have rules. You can’t have a gun out in the camp, it scares the kids!” Sasha exclaimed with gritted teeth.

“No offence, lady, but we have a problem,” Stiles pointed to the handprint and Sasha stepped back, eyes wide.

“One of yours?” She asked,

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I think he was bit just before Sarge came across us,” Stiles frowned and released the safety on his pistol, “this needs to be dealt with, so don’t lecture me and instead remove the box when I say.” Sasha nodded and let out an audible gulp before moving into position next to the box.

“Tell me when…” Sasha muttered and Stiles counted down from three in his head. He gave a slight not to Sasha, and she pushed the box out of the way.

Almost immediately, Ross broke out of the RV, except it wasn’t Ross anymore. His skin was pale, blood dripped from every orifice on the face, and his eyes weremilky in the middle and heavily bloodshot around the outside. Stiles didn’t expect Ross to burst out, so he fell backwards, dropping his gun in the process and he scrambled away from Ross.

Screams sounded and Ross - the zombie - became distracted. He moved his attention away from Stiles and over to the people who were running away. Stiles picked up his gun too late as George, who was helping some of the people get away quicker, was grasped in the zombie’s hands. Within seconds, the zombie had taken a bite from George’s neck and sent him to the ground, going for the organs. Stiles was shaking as he aimed his gun, and once he lined up the shot, he took it.

The bang echoed around the clearing, and the thud of Ross’ zombified body hitting the floor sounded heavier than it should have. Stiles let out a breath, the world going still for only a moment, before he walked up to the scene, his eyes finding George’s, whose glasses were discarded next to him on the ground. He gurgled and spat up blood, one hand on his stomach and the other reaching up to Stiles. Stiles let George grasp his hand and pull it down so his gun was against George’s forehead. The look in George’s eyes said it all and Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

He took the shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha - Chloe Bennet  
Sarge - Jason O'Mara
> 
> \--
> 
> This chapter was fun to write, and is maybe the longest one yet.
> 
> The delay was a bit longer than I'd hoped, but I had a bit of a bad mid-week so I delayed a lot. Past that, I'm coming into uni exam time so I may have to delay more updates, but I'll always tell you when I do. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	11. The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life at Sarge's camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the upload delay

Stiles was cleaning his weapon frantically, his eyes solely focused on the metal in his hands, and his mind racing as he recounted the events of the past day. Tanvi didn’t blame him for losing George, and was glad about that fact. Something told Stiles that she blamed Julia more than anything, but she was nice enough not to say it. Stiles liked that about her. He found himself liking a lot about her, and he pushed those feelings down. He needed to believe that Lydia was still around, and he wasn’t going to betray her.

There was a knock on Stiles’ RV that brought him out of his thoughts, and he set his weapon down on the table. He stood, walked over to the the door and opened it without looking through the window to see who it was. Chris Argent stood on the other side, holding two bowls of what looked like campers stew. Stiles said nothing and let him inside to sit at the table. Stiles moved his weapon to the kitchenette counter and sat with Chris.

“How’re you doing?” Chris asked, and Stiles raised an eyebrow as he shovelled a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“That’s a stupid question and you know it,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. Chris conceded and shrugged,

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know the answer,” He replied, and Stiles scoffed.

“I’m peachy,” Stiles stated sarcastically and Chris actually laughed. Stiles put his spoon into the bowl and bit his lip before staring at Chris and asking what he wanted to ask from the moment he saw the other man, “how were things in Beacon Hills when you left?”

“I knew that would come up eventually,” Chris nodded with a sigh, “Everyone alive was leaving, everyone except the pack. Scott wouldn’t leave Beacon Hills, and he didn’t want the pack to leave either.”

“Why?” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows,

“I don’t know, but he made it an alpha order, so none of the pack could physically leave unless they rejected Scott as the alpha. I think it was unintentional, the order, but it still meant none of them were going to leave,” Chris frowned and shook his head, “Beacon Hills is relatively safe, though, or at least it was when I left. Most people left during the first few days, and the dead ones that walked had mostly been killed off. Beacon Hills is mostly a ghost town now,”

“Who…who was alive?” Stiles didn’t really want to know, but he had to.

“Your dad and Lydia were still alive when I left, Stiles,” Chris said, as if he was reading Stiles’ thoughts, “Malia too, and Derek,”

“Why’d you leave if it was safe?”

“Melissa got bit, and Scott was determined to bite her to save her life, but I ended it. We’d already seen Liam get bitten by one of those…things and not make it out, so we already knew werewolves didn’t survive it, but he was determined to try. After that…well, he kicked me out and I left gladly,” Chris explained quickly and dismissively, “How about you? How’d you get here?”

“When it hit, I was in DC and it got bad really quick. I managed to escape with David, my roommate, and we stole a car and hightailed it out of there. We met up with Carson on the way out, before we met most of our group at a highway blockage,” Stiles shrugged, glossing over the details, “From there, it was just us travelling, gathering supplies, finding places to sleep and meeting Tanvi and her group. We had an encounter with a less than friendly werewolf pack, but we made it out,”

“How many times have you had to do that?” Chris asked surprisingly softly, and Stiles flinched, taken aback.

“Do what?” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek,

“Kill someone before they turned,”

“I don’t know, a few?” Stiles seemed unsure, and annoyed. He didn’t want to talk about it, “Why?”

“You’re just different,” Chris shrugged, “you seem a little more on edge than you used to be, ready for a fight.”

“I have to be,” Stiles sighed and shook his head, “how am I still alive? Why?” He pondered quickly before frowning, “forget it.”

“Stiles, you’re barely in your twenties. Nobody saw this coming,” Chris muttered, “I certainly didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Stiles huffed, “tell me about it,”

“You’re alive because you’re supposed to be. You’re alive to help these people, and you’re alive because you’re too damn stubborn to die just like that,” Chris smirked and Stiles pondered the words, “You’re adaptable, Stiles.”

“Yeah…yeah I guess,” Stiles smiled tightly, the gesture not reaching his eyes, “When did you come across these guys?”

“Not too long ago. Maybe around a month or so back,” Chris shrugged, “believe me when I say I trust them as far as I can throw them. Sarge is likely crazy, and his right-hand, Jason, is probably even more so. They’re not good people, but they get results, and they’ve created this place.”

“They’re not werewolves, though, right?” Stiles asked, fidgeting with the bowl and spoon in front of him. Chris regarded him with a confused expression and shook his head.

“No, they’re not werewolves. Why?”

“Less than friendly werewolf pack, remember?” Stiles tapped his index finger to the scar on his cheek. When Chris really looked at it, he noticed the jaggedness of the shape, and with his experience, he was able to identify it as a claw mark.

“Right…” Chris frowned but said nothing more.

“Can you help train some of the people in my group?” Stiles asked suddenly, “they’ve pretty much got how to shoot down, but we’re still losing bullets because aim’s a little off. It’d be great if they had someone like you to teach them,” Stiles suggested with raised eyebrows. Chris thought for a moment before shrugging.

“I suppose. Why can’t you help? You’re pretty good at shooting from what I hear,”

“Comes with being the sheriff’s son. They don’t have the luxury of years of going to a shooting range,” Stiles explained.

“Alright then. I think we can set up some classes, with some of the others around here too, not just your group. I know there’s a few teenagers who want to know how to shoot,” Chris stood to leave and Stiles stood with him, “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re alive,” Chris smiled sharply and left the RV. Stiles deflated back into his seat and let out a sigh. He clasped his hands firmly in front of him and stared, the newly acquired callouses and small patches of white scar tissue marking his skin.

* * *

When Stiles left his RV the morning after, everyone was staring. From people who inhabited the camp before they arrived, to his own people, every eye was trained on Stiles. He didn’t let it get to him, though, as he approached the campfire for breakfast. Tanvi and Julia were missing, though, and Stiles spotted them along the waterfront, standing over two piles of dirt that clearly marked the resting place of both Ross and George.

“She might not have made it clear, but George was her childhood best friend,” Josh said as he took a place next to Stiles around the fire, “He had the biggest crush on her in high school,” he added. Stiles said nothing as he moved his fork around the bowl of scrambled eggs and baked beans, something Stiles had barely had, and was attempting to get used to considering the canned beans were primarily a British food.

“Is she okay?” Stiles asked after a large moment of silence,

“She will be,” Josh said with a sad smile and a slight nod,

“And Julia?” Stiles muttered,

“As expected. She’s barely speaking and isn’t eating. Tanvi’s taken to caring for her, for now. She doesn’t want to leave Julia alone, I think,” Josh explained briefly, “are we safe here?” He asked after a while, “I’m sick of running, and I’m sick of killing,”

“I don’t think we’re safe anywhere,” Stiles admitted, his eyes moved to trail on Sarge, who was talking to Sasha and Chris by an RV that was slightly removed from the rest, likely his own, “for now, though, we’re safer here than we were out there,”

“Okay,” Josh nodded.

Nothing more was said as the two ate. Stiles kept watch on Sarge, his eye occasionally catching Chris, who gave him a grim smile and slight nod in return. Even though he was tired and running on lack of sleep, Stiles stayed alert. Once breakfast was over, he kept his hand as close to his hip where his gun was at all times. He knew he was paranoid, but he’d seen enough TV shows and movies that told him not everyone he’d meet in an apocalypse were good people. He knew from Chris’ assessment, and Stiles’ own, that Sarge was bad news under the right circumstances. Stiles just had to be careful.

Everyone was put to work except Tanvi and Julia. Julia stayed in the RV the entire day with Tanvi. Chris set up a small training area, where he was teaching Hailey, Tyler, several other teenagers and some adults how to shoot with Sasha next to him. The woman seemed to be one of the closest people to Sarge, and also the one that worked with the kids. Josh, Carson and David were put to work around the perimeter, each of them put on a roster and given watch. Kyle and Robin were babysitting some of the younger children, Emma was working with some of the older women in preparing food and cleaning up afterwards. She liked the stories the women told, apparently. Samuel was helping with the livestock, but he mainly stuck around the horses. Henry was using his limited medical knowledge to help with the medic station.

Stiles wasn’t designated an area, so he went to help Chris and Sasha with the training. When he approached, Chris gave him a warm smile in greeting, while Sasha gave him a cold side-eye. Stiles scowled at the other woman, and she smirked in amusement. Tyler struggled with loading the bullets into the clip, and Chris went to help. Hailey was going the fastest, and had her gun loaded before the others. Sasha gave her a word of praise, and Stiles watched on in both fascination and sudden sadness.

What had the world come to that they were training literal children how to be soldiers?

Stiles regarded his own time as a teenager. He wasn’t exactly normal in the first place, but what sixteen year old is perfectly at ease with bodies dropping? What seventeen year old has more blood on his hands than the entire town combined? He wasn’t a child soldier, but he might’ve well have been. Those teenagers, Tyler, Hailey and the others, none of them had the life Stiles did, but they were growing up in a world where they didn’t need prior knowledge to survive. Stiles knew from experience that the life they were living would have detrimental effects on their mental health and they morality. Stiles knew, because after everything he’d personally been through, he wasn’t okay. He clearly wasn’t, and he also became less caring about his moral code, and about who he hurt. There was only one word for what he felt when he thought back to the way he’d grown up, the way he’d matured.

Regret.

“You okay, man?” Sasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Stiles frowned, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts, “how’re they doing?”

“The girl surprised me,” Sasha gestured vaguely towards Hailey, “she’s got spirit,”

“Yeah. Surprised all of us too,” He laughed weakly, “how can I help?”

“The boy’s got good aim, but bad reload time. Help him with that,” Sasha shrugged. Stiles went to move but she stopped him with her hand on his arm, “hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your friends. It’s not easy when you have to do that,” She gave him a surprisingly sincere and sad smile, which Stiles returned.

“Thanks,” He said before going to help Tyler.

After the training session, Chris pulled Stiles away from the group to meet with Sarge, Sasha and Jason, Sarge’s right hand. They were planning a run, and Sarge had apparently requested Stiles to come along. Chris had stated that Sarge wanted Jason to keep an eye on him, and Stiles could figure out why. Stiles, in turn, also wanted to keep an eye on Jason in particular gage his personality, his reactions, how he acted towards Stiles. He could never be too prepared.

“There’s a college campus nearby with a large science division. Medical needs some more supplies, and we’re going to get it,” Sarge said, giving Stiles an uneasy grin, “you got any people you want to bring?” He asked, and Stiles nodded sharply.

“Carson,” He stated. He knew if anything went south, Carson would have his back. Tanvi may have been a good fighter and fierce when needed, but she was also emotionally compromised in a way that Carson wasn’t. In some ways it was good, but in a situation where they weren’t sure what they were going into, Stiles needed someone with him who was levelheaded under pressure.

“Alright then. Think you can manage this run?” Sarge exchanged a glance with Jason and Stiles pulled his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing at the two.

“Think you can keep up?” He replied, eyes staring into Jason’s.

Jason conceded with a scoff and tore his green eyes away from Stiles. The other man was intimidating, with his tall stature, muscular frame and closely cropped dark hair. His eyes were malicious and intelligent, something that reminded Stiles of the Nogitsune, and that didn’t sit well with him. Sasha on the other hand was much easier to approach, and easier to read. She had shoulder-length black hair with the top layer sun-bleached, nearly black eyes that sparked with kindness and an unspoken toughness. She looked mixed-race in appearance, her features more Asian than anything, but slightly European.

“We head out in ten minutes,” Jason stated, posture stiff.

The group broke away and Stiles took the opportunity to seek out Carson. She was standing, rifle in hand, on top of the landing behind the wall, looking out. Stiles climbed his way up and exchanged a glance with David nearby before tapping Carson on the shoulder. She turned quickly on her heel and waited for Stiles to speak.

“I’ve been called on a run. I want you to come with me, to have my back in case things go south with them,” He jerked his head towards where Sarge and Jason were standing.

“Got it. When do we leave?” Carson turned back to looking out over the other side of the wall.

“Ten minutes,” Stiles stated.

“Corpse!” One of the others on watch yelled, and Stiles and Carson turned their attention towards where a lone zombie was stumbling towards the camp. One of the men took aim and fired quickly with a bow, the arrow sailing into the head. He then exchanged a look with the man who yelled the call to attention before jumping the wall to retrieve the arrow.

“Come on,” Stiles muttered to Carson and she nodded, setting her rifle down to go get ready for the run.

The group of five - Stiles, Carson, Chris, Jason and Sasha - met up at the gate, weapons ready. They said nothing to one another as the gate opened and they walked out into the open world. Weapons tight to their chests, aiming outward, they moved slowly and as a team, making sure no angle to them was unprotected. Jason took the lead, butting Stiles out of the spot, clearly trying to antagonise him, and Chris had to hold him back.

One thing was for sure, and Stiles knew it subconsciously before anything even happened.

Someone wasn’t going back to camp.


	12. No Good Guys Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Carson, Sasha, Chris and Jason make their way to the college to retrieve medical supplies.

On foot, the trip was taking longer than expected. It was nearing sundown and they hadn’t even gotten close to the college. Jason took them off the road and into the forest that lined the sides. They settled in-between a group of trees, Jason and Chris setting up a perimeter with fishing line and items that would make sound if moved, while Sasha set up the campfire in the centre. Stiles and Carson took to watching, as they hadn’t used the technique before. There were old cans, cutlery, a metal pan and several CDs strung up with the fishing line. It was to make it easy for them to know if they were about to get jumped by zombies.

“Nice idea,” Stiles said, gesturing to the perimeter.

“You guys never use this before? I thought it was common knowledge by now,” Jason laughed mockingly and Stiles scowled. Carson sighed and put her hand on Stiles’ shoulder pulling him back a step,

“We were never outside for long enough periods of time, we always found somewhere to stay,” Carson answered so Stiles didn’t have to.

“Huh…around here, places to stay are scarce. Everywhere’s overrun,” Chris replied.

“So was practically every place we found,” Stiles said through gritted teeth, “we just weren’t scared enough to run at the sight,” Jason quirked an eyebrow and took a threatening step forward, Stiles meeting his eyes with an intense stare. The air was tense as Jason and Stiles stared each other down, neither wanting to blink first.

“Let’s just calm down, alright?” Sasha stood in-between both men and put her hands on both of their chests, lightly pushing them back. Stiles and Jason said nothing in response, only continuing to stare at each other, peering over Sasha’s shoulder.

“I think we should get some rest, and keep those two away from one other,” Carson locked eyes with Chris, and they shared a nod.

“Let’s do that,” Chris stated.

The night went on with each member of their group taking watch intermittently, Chris first, then Jason, Stiles, Carson and Sasha. The night went steady with no encounters from the undead, but rather a curious deer. When it was morning time, the group set out once again towards the college, Stiles voluntarily hanging back to let Jason take the lead as he knew where he was going, and Stiles did not. Stiles and Chris walked side by side, Stiles holding his gun with an iron grip as he watched his surroundings vigilantly, while Chris stared straight ahead, his hold on his gun lax as his spatial awareness and reflexes were refined from decades of training.

“Any particular reason why you’re not a fan of Jason?” Chris asked Stiles as they continued down the road. The area seemed quiet enough so they weren’t stumbling upon many zombies.

“You told me yourself that he’s probably worse than Sarge, I’m being wary. I have a bad feeling about him.” Stiles stated, body rigid as he cast his eyes over the trees that lined the sides of the road.

“Fair enough, but you’re antagonising him, and that’s not a good idea either,” Chris sighed as he stared ahead at Jason leading the group.

“He’s antagonising me. The fucker just has that kind of face,” Stiles grumbled, and Chris raised his eyebrows in slight surprise,

“Alright, what happened?” Chris stopped Stiles and stared at him, Stiles’ dark eyes staring into Chris’, the lack of light behind them shocking to realise.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Stiles shrugged, clearly avoiding the question. Up ahead, Jason had noticed they had stopped, and had stopped as well, leaning against an abandoned car talking to Sasha while Carson watched Chris and Stiles intently.

“You know exactly what I mean. You’re closed off, even from me and I knew you before. You’re on edge, ready for a fight, your trust issues seem to be dialled up to eleven, and you didn’t hesitate when the old man turned and ripped apart your friend, so what the hell happened?” Chris raised his voice slightly as he spoke and Stiles’ eyes visibly hardened at the words.

“I did hesitate, maybe not long enough in your opinion, but I hesitated. What happened, Chris? What happened was the world went to shit and I shoved down my fear and anxiety to use my knowledge of how to fucking survive when monsters are trying to kill me, to help these guys. What happened was that David got kidnapped by some assholes of a pack of werewolves, tortured and strung to a ceiling. I got myself kidnapped so I could get him out, and I came out of it with more scars than I had before and the inability to give a fuck. What happened, Chris? I grew up!” Stiles seethed, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrow and body arched dangerously as if he was a wolf ready for a fight, “so yeah, you’re damn right I changed. What were you doing?” With those last words, Stiles tossed his gun between his hands and walked away, over to Carson, Sasha and Jason.

“Nice chat?” Jason smirked, causing Stiles to give him the finger,

“Fuck off Jason,” Stiles spat.

Chris walked back to the rest of the group, his expression a mixture of exasperation and shock, as he wasn’t expecting Stiles’ reaction. He wasn’t expecting Stiles to even tell him about the experience he alluded to. Chris just shook his head as the group followed after Stiles who had took off ahead. Jason just exchanged an amused glance with Sasha, who didn’t seem to share his sentiment. They were close to the college, close enough to see it.

Stiles stopped at the tree line, the group stopping behind him. They peered out through the trees and the fence surrounding the campus to scope it out, only to see hundreds, maybe thousands, of zombies walking the grounds. Stiles let out a low curse which Carson echoed. There were more zombies around than they could handle, meaning they’d need to find another way inside.

“They look like they’re all outside. Maybe there’s barely any inside,” Jason suggested, and Stiles gave him a look that Chris recognised as the ‘are you stupid?’ look.

“You really haven’t been out here that often, have you? There’s probably at least five in every room. If we want to get inside, we need to find another way in that doesn’t draw attention to ourselves. We don’t want those guys swarming us,” Stiles gestured vaguely towards the zombies. Jason scowled and shrunk back slightly,

“So what do we do?” Sasha asked and Stiles was silent for several moments, thinking.

“While they’re safety in numbers, the size of this group means we’re safer if we split up,” Stiles stated, which wasn’t very well received.

“You’re kidding right? You want us to split up in that?” Sasha asked with wide eyes. Stiles eyed Carson, then Chris before turning back to Sasha,

“We need to get past them. With less people, it’s easier to slip by, whereas with all of us, we’re likely to make more noise and catch their attention. If things go wrong we’re not safer if we split up, you’re right, but getting past them is currently what I’m worried about,” Stiles shared a look with Jason who tightened his lips in annoyance, “I’ll take Jason, Carson, Chris, Sasha, you guys go together.”

“Why those groups?” Carson asked, curious as to why Stiles voluntarily placed himself with Jason.

“As far as I’m concerned, Sasha’s the least experienced out here, out of all of us, and I trust you and Chris to keep her safe. This is purely a strategic decision,” Stiles explained.

“Alright then, what’s the plan?” Chris asked,

“Jason and I will enter from south side of the campus, while you guys enter from the north. Once we’ve cleared out what we need, we’ll meet up at that gas station just down the road. If one group isn’t there by the time you are, give them an hour of time before you leave, if that group is still alive, they know their way back. Got it?” Stiles looked around the group as everyone nodded, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his gear off the ground and started walking away with Jason on his heels.

They approached the south side fence and climbed it without saying a word. Dashing between cars, blockades and demountable’s that had been set up for what looked like a medical station, Stiles and Jason made quick work of the front courtyard. They made sure their footsteps were light, breathing was as quiet as possible and that they didn’t stay still for over a few seconds. It was going well until Jason passed a zombie a bit closer than he should have, and the zombie immediately snarled in his face and went to claw at him.

Stiles, with his knife, sent the zombie to the ground before it could do anything, and sent Jason a glare. Stiles then took his knife to the zombie’s stomach and promptly ripped it open. Stiles, without hesitation, plunged his hand into the zombie’s stomach and began smearing as much of the black blood and other assorted fluids onto his clothes, and onto his face as if it were warpaint. He suppressed a disgusted shudder as he did so, and instead focused on the goal at hand. Jason gave Stiles a disgusted look before Stiles began doing the same to Jason’s clothes until Jason did so himself. They made quick work of the zombie, and once they were both covered in the fluids, they began walking slowly into the building.

Stiles walked slower, as he carried a backpack which held some of what they used to deter any stragglers the night before at their makeshift camp sight. He shuffled, dragging his feet as he walked and made sure not to let out any sounds that could draw unnecessary attention from the surrounding zombies that only looked for surface cues, such as smell. Jason, on the other hand, was walking a lot faster and wasn’t acting the part. He was drawing more attention and Stiles gritted his teeth. Once they got inside, however, Stiles pulled the doors closed behind them and took Jason aside with a thunderous look on his face.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself. Do you realise how close you were out there?” Stiles said in a harsh whisper, “walk slower, take your time,” he finished. Jason nodded and the two set off on their mission.

A guide to the building told them the labs were a few floors above, so Stiles and Jason set off. Walking slowly up the stairs, they both kept their weapons gripped tightly, both knowing not to use guns in such an environment. The fire escape stairs luckily didn’t have any open doorways to worry about, but they were vigilant in case there were zombies on the stairs themselves.

They rounded a corner to another flight up, and were faced with a group of around nine zombies that slowly turned to face the two men. Stiles gritted his teeth and grabbed Jason, pulling him through the door next to him and into the main hallway of floor three. They’d need to go up another floor before getting to the first section of labs. Stiles began to lead Jason slowly to the other side of the floor, which had the other set of fire stairs.

Walking as slow as possible, Stiles, who was leading Jason - and surprisingly Jason was letting him - checked every passing room. It was just his luck that the first one he checked held five zombies. Stiles gave a hand gesture to Jason, who hopefully got what he was saying, before charging into the room. Stiles took his knife to the closest zombie’s head, and Jason came in afterwards, taking his own knife the head of another. Stiles then pulled his bat from where it was tucked into the straps of his backpack, and took a hefty swing at a zombie. The zombie fell to the floor, still snarling, and Stiles stamped his foot down repeatedly on its head while using his bat on another approaching zombie. Jason was standing in a corner, being swarmed by two zombies, each of them snarling and going to grab Jason. Stiles swung his bat and sent one into the wall, the bat smashing the skull on impact, and took his knife to the head of the other.

“Okay, how stupid are you to corner yourself?” Stiles whirled around on Jason who gave him a wide-eyed expression, “I was under the impression that you were _a badass_, and probably belongs in the looney bin, so what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I haven’t been in this situation before, okay? Sarge found me within the first few days, and he always did all this stuff. I just help him make decisions!” Jason put his hands up as if Stiles was going to shoot him, and Stiles really thought he would.

“You’re a fraud, and an asshole about it too,” Stiles growled, eyes growing dark.

Stiles said nothing more as he stalked out of the room and began moving through the other rooms, taking down each zombie he encountered angrily. He handled a room of six zombies on his own, using his bat and his knife just as he did before. Jason tried to help, but was pushed away by Stiles. Stiles made a Pollock painting out of one room infested with the undead, and what looked like a scene from a horror movie out of another. Jason watched on in sick fascination, silently envying the way Stiles worked through the rooms as if they were nothing.

By the time Stiles was finished, his anger was diminished and the floor was clear. They made their way up the stairs to level four, where they cleared each room before they even began looking for what they needed. Luckily, only four zombies inhabited the floor, all of them dressed in lab coats and goggles. They split up, Jason with a duffel bag and Stiles with his backpack, and went searching for the medical supplies and drugs they needed.

Stiles was searching through a cabinet when he found three bottles of adderall. He took a bottle and looked down at its label, his finger instinctively going to tap on the lid in a rhythm he himself did not know. He hadn’t really thought about adderall, as he’d been preoccupied with other things, and hadn’t had the drug since just before the apocalypse began. He debated its use to him in his mind for several minutes, before grabbing all through bottles and stuffing them into his backpack.

“Hey, I got everything we need,” Jason said, coming into the room Stiles was in. Stiles nodded and zipped up his backpack before pulling it over his shoulders.

“Let’s check the next floor up before we leave. It’s a lab floor as well,” Stiles stated. Jason nodded and the two made their way to the stairwell. Once they made it up the stairs, Stiles tried pushing the door open, but it wouldn’t budge more than an inch. When he heard the loud snarling from inside, he closed the door, shook his head and went to go back down the stairs, “let’s not do that one.” He muttered.

Jason followed him down the stairs and out into the courtyard where they were once again faced with hundreds of surrounding corpses. Stiles pulled Jason into a nearby demountable and took a whiff of his clothes, grunting when he realised the scent was likely fading enough for them to get caught as soon as they tried to pass the zombies. Deciding that they didn’t have the time to dissect another zombie, Stiles and Jason left the demountable and stepped out into the open air.

They walked slowly, but they soon realised it wasn’t going to make a difference. The zombies were paying more attention to them, and Stiles knew something needed to be done soon. He grabbed Jason by the arm and pulled him into a run. The two ran down the courtyard and into the carpark, the zombies converging on them quickly. Stiles looked to the ground for only a moment, took a deep breath and stopped himself and Jason.

“What the hell are you doing, man? We’ve got to go!” Jason exclaimed loudly as there was no point in being quiet when a large hoard of the undead were out to get them. Stiles played with his knife in his hand as his other hand twitched around his gun holster.

“You know what’s got to happen, don’t you Jace?” Stiles stared at Jason, dark eyes meeting terrified ones. Jason stared down at the knife and then back at Stiles, wide eyed and body shaking as he protested what he knew Stiles was about to do, “Hey, man, for what it’s worth, you’re not what Chris described you as,” with those words, Stiles sent Jason a sadistic smirk unlike anything Stiles had worn on his face since his body wasn’t controlled by himself. Jason let out a yell of ‘no’ when Stiles grabbed him by the shoulder and plunged the knife into the place where the jaw met the neck, causing Jason’s yell to get cut off by a gurgle of blood. Stiles pulled the knife out quickly and Jason dropped to the ground. Eying the approaching hoard, Stiles kicked Jason towards them and picked up his duffel bag. As he began to back away, Stiles watched the hoard turn their attention towards Jason, who was slowly dying, and began to rip into him rather than Stiles.

With shaking, bloody hands and a sweat covered forehead, Stiles chucked the duffel bag over the fence before hopping it and making his way back to the gas station where the group had all agreed to meet. As he approached, he saw the hesitant expression on Sasha’s face as she looked Stiles up and down, the confused expression on Carson’s and the knowing expression on Chris’s as his eyes only fell onto Stiles’ hands that were covered in Jason’s blood.

“Where’s Jason?” Sasha asked immediately, jabbing a finger into Stiles’ chest. Stiles slowly butted it away and stared Sasha in the eyes.

“He was jumped by a hoard on our way out,” Stiles told her, which technically was the truth. Nothing more was said as they made their way back to the camp.

It was after the camp had met for dinner, when Stiles was inside his RV, simply staring at the ceiling, that he heard a knock. When he opened the door, he was met with Chris, who said nothing, not even a greeting, as he sat at the small dining table across from Stiles. Stiles gave him a slight glare, knowing what was about to come out of the older mans mouth.

“You’re lucky I didn’t tell Sarge what you did,” Chris stated, and Stiles tilted his head slightly,

“And what is it that you think I did?” Stiles asked, voice even and robotic, as if all feeling had been snuffed out for the day.

“You killed Jason. Why?” Chris leant forward and Stiles averted his eyes slightly, biting his lip.

“He was slowing me down. None of us would have gotten away if I hadn’t of done that. So this camp better be fucking grateful that I came back at all,” Stiles spat, his expression growing cold. Chris was taken aback, his eyed widening at the statement.

“How did you do it?” Chris asked and Stiles shook his head slightly, not wanting to talk about it, “Stiles!” Chris grunted.

“Stabbed him right here,” Stiles pointed to the spot, “then kicked him over to hoard so they’d be more occupied with him than me,” he shrugged as if it was nothing, and that fact alone shocked Chris to his core, made him actually terrified of the young man in front of him.

“You think that’s okay?”

“I think it was the right decision in the situation I was dealt,” Stiles growled in response, “you would’ve done the same and you know it,” Chris didn’t know what to say to the jab. Probably because Stiles was right. Instead he decided to take his own jab at Stiles where he knew it hurt. It probably wasn’t the best decision, but he needed Stiles to understand the gravity of the situation.

“You’re not the good guy in this, Stiles,” Chris said in a harsh whisper, eyes never leaving Stiles’.

“That’s the thing, Chris, maybe you haven’t been paying attention, there’s no good guys, no bad guys anymore. Only survivors,” Stiles leant forward, his eyes taking a manic glint to them. Chris raised his eyebrows and stared at Stiles sadly.

The boy that was once innocent, only wanting to help his friend with his furry new problem, turned into the man in front of him capable of murder for his own gain. The fact of Stiles’ life was horrible and disappointing, while also being the best thing possible for the survival of anyone worthy enough to stand by his side. Stiles was right, there were only survivors in the world they’d been given. Nobody was simply good or bad, nothing was black or white anymore, and Stiles knew it. He’d finally found a world that fit his mentality, and it scared Chris what Stiles could do when the world finally cause him to thrive.

“I hope your father never lives to see who you’ve become,” Chris said sadly as he stood and left Stiles’ RV, leaving Stiles to his own thoughts, Chris’ last words echoing through his brain.

“Yeah…” Stiles muttered once Chris left, “me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is probably a bit of a turning point for Stiles. He's accepted at this point the things he has to do to keep everyone safe, and he's accepted that he's not the good guy, but also not the bad guy either. The events of this chapter will continue to haunt him down the line, because Jason is his first deliberate kill.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this one! I had a lot of fun writing this.
> 
> The events of this chapter are based on three episodes of The Walking Dead. "Save The Last One", "Cherokee Rose" and "Indifference". If you've seen TWD, you'll know what I'm talking about.


	13. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with a lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!
> 
> Thanks so much for being patient with the lack of updates. I had exams for the last two weeks and it was a little hectic. I'm on holidays now, so I'm ready to role out more updates for you guys!
> 
> WARNING:
> 
> This chapter contains mentions of psychological disorders, and hallucinations, it is a large focus in the chapter.

Stiles stared at his reflection in the tiny RV mirror, his hands were still shaking, but the rest of his body didn’t seem to want to catch up, the feeling of guilt no longer creeping up his spine, through his body and pushing bile into his throat. He didn’t feel that, didn’t think he wanted to feel that again. He studied his reflection, his eyes were darker, not in colour but the light behind them seemed as close to gone as possible, his skin was dirty and marked with scars and specs of blood he wasn’t able to scrub off. He closed his eyes and ducked his head, taking a deep breath as he tried to remember _feeling_.

He opened his eyes when he realised it had been way too long since he _really_ felt.

His lips parted and his eyes grew wide, the shakiness coming to his whole body, but not in the form of remorse, or even guilt. Instead, he was shaking because of realisation. There was only one thought going through his head, and that single thought would keep him up more than the blood on his hands.

_ Monster._

There was a line, and he crossed it. He was right when he said to Chris that there were no good guys or bad guys, rather survivors, but there was always going to be a line. Would Stiles really want to go back to the way things were? If they were able to cure or eradicate every walking corpse around the world, would he be able to integrate back into a society? _Could_ he even? There was a point of no return that Stiles had crossed way too long ago, he just never realised it. Chris was right. He wasn’t the good guy, wasn’t even a neutral party, but someone had to ensure of their survival.

He was the bad guy, but it was _necessary_.

_Monster!_

Stiles took a deep breath and shook his head, jerking it awkwardly that he was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. He clenched the sink in front of him so hard he heard a slight groan from the porcelain. Stiles eyed his reflection, and he could’ve sworn he saw a dark shadow behind him, one that cast the silhouette of a fox with too many tails to count. Stiles tapped his fingers on the sink, one by one, counting each one. He had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

_He wasn’t_.

The silhouette was gone, the normal shadow of Stiles’ own body in its place. He let out a breath and let go of the sink, avoiding his reflection to move out of the tiny bathroom and out into the main area of the RV. A forceful knock at the door pulled him out of his dark thoughts and out into reality. Stiles opened the door, expecting to see Chris, Carson or even Tanvi. Instead, Sarge’s piercing blue eyes and sadistic smirk was what awaited Stiles.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked Sarge, who pushed past him to get inside the RV.

“I want you to tell me what happened to Jason,” Sarge stated, taking a seat at the small dining table, “don’t leave anything out,” he added. Stiles closed the RV door and raised an eyebrow as he went to sit across from Sarge.

“There were hundreds of corpses walking around that place,” Stiles began with a huff of annoyance, “You really think it was so out there that Jason died?”

“I think you had something to do with it,” Sarge leant forward slightly, tilting his head to the side as if to say that he caught Stiles.

_Monster!_

“He handed me his bag and told me to run, so I did. It’s not my fault he got himself killed,” Stiles lied easily, the words slipping out of his mouth as if they were the truth.

_“You’re lying to yourself as much as you’re lying to him,” _An echoing voice said. Stiles shifted his attention to a spot just past Sarge. A bloody figure with a gaping neck wound stood against the kitchenette cabinets, eyes a milky white. His stomach was ripped open, a partial intestine hanging from the wound. It was Jason, and Stiles was sure he was crazy. _“Just tell him the truth and leave. It’s not like you’re going to save these people anyway. Everywhere you go, someone dies,”_ ‘Jason’ berated with a grin, _“And it’s all your fault!”_ He bared his teeth like an animal and Stiles flinched.

“What the hell are you looking at?” Sarge growled, confusion etched on his face,

“Nothing…” Stiles muttered, trailing off as he tried to ignore Jason’s figure behind Sarge, “look, the guy got himself killed. By the time I was on the fence, the corpses were crowding around, trying to get a piece of him,” Stiles was good at half-truths. He was good at lying. Even to werewolves, Stiles could lie as easily as he could to his teachers. Scott was always the easiest, he never paid attention to heartbeats, but over the years, Stiles trained himself to minimise the tells that he was lying to werewolves. Peter always could tell, though, Stiles supposed it was his years experience over the rest of the pack.

“Are you sure about that? Sasha isn’t inclined to believe you, and neither am I,” Sarge was direct, and not very intelligent as Stiles figured out. He never played things smart, always confronting it with a brash attitude and a maniacal glint in his eyes.

_“Got to hand it to the guy, he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he knows assholes, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of an asshole,”_ Jason said with a shrug. Stiles gritted his teeth and tried his best to bite back his tongue.

“You can believe what you want, but I said what I said and I saw what I saw,” Stiles replied to Sarge with a steely expression, “now, you want to get out, or am I going to have to show you the door?” Stiles growled, eyes low. Sarge laughed and shook his head.

“I’ll see myself out,” Sarge stated, getting to a standing position, “you know, you’ve got some nerve on you, kid, to lie to my face like that. Maybe that’s why I like you,” Sarge’s expression at that moment made Stiles’ skin crawl. He watched the older man leave the RV, and let out a sigh of relief.

_“Not much of an interrogator, is he?” _Jason laughed, walking out of Stiles’ peripheral to directly in front of him, _“You held up pretty good, but he definitely saw right through you. I’d work on your ability to lie when you feel guilty, you’re not at your best,” _Jason sat on the chair Sarge had occupied moments earlier and put his feet up on the table.

“Can you just shut up?” Stiles growled, putting his hands on his ears as if to block out the sound and the vision he knew was in his head, “I don’t have time for hallucinations,”

_“Oh, you’re self-aware! That’s a new one,” _Jason cracked a grin that almost made Stiles punch something that wasn’t really there, _“Funny what guilt brings out of you, isn’t it Stiles? You saw yourself on that oh so fateful pole instead of Donovan. The guilt ate you alive then didn’t it?”_

“You’re misreading me,” Stiles said in what barely constituted as a whisper, “I’m not guilty, I don’t feel that anymore,”

_“Yes you do,”_ A new, feminine, voice said. Stiles dreaded turning, but when he did, he saw a familiar set of dark brown eyes, hair a few shades darker and slightly curly. She looked as young as she did when he met her, complete with the pendant of her family crest at her neck, but also the wound in her stomach where a sword had impaled her because of _him_. Allison.

“Please…God, just leave me alone,” Stiles whispered, eyes tearing up without his approval, and body beginning to shake. He didn’t want this, he didn’t need this, he was supposed to be strong. Strong for the people he brought this far, strong for the people he had yet to see again. He needed to be okay, he didn’t need to feel like he needed a straight jacket and a white, padded room, or teams of shrinks trying to analyse his every word. He didn’t need that.

_“Who are you now, Stiles?” _Allison asked, stepping closer, _“Who are you that you take pleasure out of causing pain? Who are you that you smile when you put a bullet in-between John Cole’s head? What has this world made you?”_ Stiles knew the answer to that question. It’d been plaguing his mind all day.

“A monster…” Stiles muttered, barely even hearing himself.

_“Would you have killed Theo if I let you?” _Another voice said and Stiles didn’t even need to turn around to know that it was Scott.

“I…I don’t know.” Stiles admitted. But he did. He recalled his own words when Theo told him what he wanted out of Beacon Hills, how he wanted Void back, and how Stiles had more blood on his hands than any of the others.

_And I’m about to get more._

He wanted to, he knew it, but he didn’t want to admit it to a figment of his imagination. A part of Stiles was always ready for a fight and always ready to take the road of lesser men, one that resulted in a death or two. Stiles was sure he would’ve had blue eyes if he became a werewolf, and that was before the apocalypse. It was no question afterwards, all of his mercy killings had been of innocent people.

_“Just give up. It’s not that hard to just walk away, let yourself be taken by the dead the way you forced it on me,” _Jason sat forward, white eyes suddenly piercing and Stiles couldn’t take it.

Stiles jumped out of his seat, ignoring the figures of Jason, Allison and Scott, and moving to leave the RV. He kept his head down as he walked through the camp, but in his peripheral vision, he saw more figures, more people that he had wronged in some way, more extensions of his conscience he supposed. Andrea was among them, half her neck missing in a mess of blood, and a fresh arrow wound to the forehead, the arrow still sticking out. Stiles just stopped, his eyes moving to stare into the cold, lifeless yellow rimmed ones that Andrea’s figure held. He failed her, just like he failed Alice, just like he failed George and Ross. Just like he failed Allison.

“Stiles?” Carson walked over to Stiles and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump slightly as he turned his attention to her.

“Yeah?” Stiles replied, his tone irritable and tired. He didn’t want to deal with anything that the world had to throw at him, he had enough psychological problems to deal with,

“I wanted to see if you’re okay after what happened…” Carson trailed off and Stiles tried not to focus on the looming figure of Jason behind her.

_“Yeah, Stiles. Are _you_ okay after what happened?” _Jason taunted, tapping a finger towards the hole in his neck that Stiles created, _“Why don’t you tell her the truth? You told Chris, and you don’t even really like the guy!” _Stiles shook his head and walked past Carson, not even acknowledging the question past his internal crisis.

“Stiles!” Carson called after him, but Stiles didn’t respond.

He spied Sasha from across the campsite and stalked his way over towards her. Sasha noticed him coming, a stormy look on her face, but didn’t even move when Stiles pushed her against an RV inside a small ‘alleyway’ in-between two of the mobile homes. His hand was against her wrist, where he could feel her pulse. She wasn’t scared, or even annoyed. Rather, she was amused.

“So what do I owe the pleasure?” Sasha asked, her tone curious but satisfied.

“What’s your game? What’s Sarge’s game?” Stiles bared his teeth and grunted, “I don’t like this place for a reason, so you better tell me why!”

“I can’t tell you the reason why you don’t like us, only you know that,” Sasha said calmly, “Sarge doesn’t have a game. The oaf’s too stupid to plan his own breakfast.” She rolled her eyes and Stiles released her wrist, suddenly aware of what she was getting at.

“You’ve been using him, haven’t you?” Stiles asked, even though he knew the answer was yes.

“Oh please, like you haven’t been the smart one behind a dumb leader before,” She rolled her eyes and Stiles chewed the inside of his lip. Scott wasn’t dumb, just more intelligent in areas that Stiles was not. Like emotions, because Stiles always had trouble relating to people in that way, and Scott sometimes seemed _way_ too empathetic.

“Doesn’t explain why,” Stiles said, staring her down,

“Survival. That’s what this life’s all about these days isn’t it?” Sasha shrugged, “I got a guy intelligent in military tactics, who survived in places where food wasn’t readily available and water was a rarity, and I made him think he was leading everyone to safety.”

“So where do I come into this equation?”

“I got bored with Sarge,” Sasha smirked and shook her head slightly, “so I found another guy willing to fight without so much as a second glance, who’d challenge Sarge’s authority even subconsciously, and I played some pieces, sacrificed some pawns. You know how it is,” Stiles _did_ know, and that scared him slightly.

“So what was the end goal? Get me to kill Sarge, take over this place with you being the puppet master pulling all the right strings?” Stiles asked, taking a half step closer so he was once again in her personal space.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” She smirked.

Within seconds, Sasha had moved closer to Stiles and pulled his head down to her level to lock her lips with his. Stiles was surprised and found himself jerking backwards slightly, his involuntary reaction to being kissed by someone he wasn’t sure if he liked or hated at that moment. Stiles found himself wanting to return the kiss but guilt crept into the back of his mind. He was still technically with Lydia, but also faced with an admittedly gorgeous woman who was voluntarily kissing him.

_“You probably won’t see Lydia again, so I’d go for it,” _Jason said from where he had appeared, sitting on a crate nearby, _“She’s just your type, hot chick with the brains to go with it and a pretty devious manipulative streak,”_

Stiles pulled away and shook his head, forcing himself to wipe his mouth with his arm as he stepped back, putting distance between him and Sasha. Sasha shrugged, a smirk plastered on her face and Stiles felt himself wishing he was back in Beacon Hills. Alone, with none of the people he’d picked up along the way. He just wanted to go home, see his father, see Lydia, see Scott and have a normal life. But that wasn’t happening any time soon.

“Why did you do that?” Stiles asked,

“You’re hot, you’ve got brains and it’s the apocalypse. Simple,” She shrugged and Stiles furrowed his eyebrows.

“So is the apocalypse and excuse to just hook up with people nowadays?” Stiles asked and Sasha sighed, rolling her eyes,

“What, you got a girlfriend somewhere?” She asked, Stiles nodded rather frantically,

“Yes!” Stiles let out rather loudly, “don’t get me wrong, you’re totally hot and almost _exactly _my type, but I’d like to get back to my girlfriend,” Stiles winced at the slight word-vomit, though slightly happy that he was still capable of such thing.

“Hey, I tried,” Sasha shrugged and turned to walk away, “you know where to find me if you change your mind,”

“I won’t,” Stiles replied.

_“Damn, I would’ve gone for that,” _Jason exclaimed,

_“You were right to stay faithful to Lydia,” _Scott smiled from his place next to Jason,

_“I hate to say it, but she’s more than likely dead,”_ Allison winced at her own words,

“Just…all of you…shut up,” Stiles growled and walked through the three hallucinations.

_“You should leave, save those people from being killed because of _you_. You should leave, because then they’ll be safer,” _Jason’s taunting words made Stiles stop in his tracks, _“So many people have died because of you, do you really want everyone you’ve worked so hard to get to this point to be next?”_

_ “You heard Sasha,”_ Allison began and Stiles closed his eyes tightly, willing the hallucinations to stop, _“Her game is survival, like yours, but your game is personal survival. You demonstrated that when you killed Jason. Sasha’s got this covered, her game is survival of the community,”_ The ghost of Allison’s hand made its way to Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles felt a shudder go down his spine.

_“Maybe you _should_ go…”_ Scott trailed off and Stiles felt a stray tear run down his cheek.

He really didn’t deserve to be bullied by his own fucking subconscious.

“You’re right,” Stiles muttered, and his mind was made.

Almost as if he was in a trance, he made his way back to his RV and pulled a duffel bag out from the small cabinet space he had. He stuffed food, and a few bottles of water, as well as some medical supplies and spare clothes in the bad. He added a pistol and some extra ammo packets for good measure and slung a shotgun over his shoulder. He pulled his handgun holster around his waist and slotted in his main pistol. With a sad sigh, he picked up his bat and left the RV.

He made sure to stick to the growing shadows of the afternoon, and was able to evade any unwanted onlookers. With one last look towards the camp, Stiles threw his gear over the fence and took a running jump where he used his feet to propel him up the wall a bit further so he could grasp onto the top. He hauled himself over and dropped down on the other side next to his gear. He picked it all up, and did what he probably should’ve done months prior.

He left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are gonna hate next chapter. I've been planning it since chapter 5 and I'm going to reiterate my beginning note on chapter 3 where Andrea died.
> 
> Don't get attached.


	14. Camp-Town Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carson realises Stiles is missing, Stiles is alone outside the walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said "don't get attached' in my last chapter, but I decided to spread out the story that was supposed to be in chapter 14 for a few more chapters, so something is coming, but it'll still be a few updates from now.
> 
> Also, I'm giving you guys a mid-week update since I'm on holidays, but also just in case I don't get to the weekend update. I'll try my best to get a weekend update for you all but if I don't...yeah.

Carson moved quickly through the camp, a look of panic on her face as her rushed footsteps sounded like bullets in the morning chatter. She made her way over Tanvi and Josh, who were sitting by the campfire laughing with bowls of breakfast beans and slices of slightly stale bread in their hands. When Carson approached, her expression caused alarm in the other two. Rushed footsteps alerted Carson to someone following her and she turned to see a winded David falling into place beside her.

“What happened?” Tanvi asked,

“Stiles is gone,” Carson stated and the other woman quickly stood, her eyes finding Sasha’s from across the campsite.

“What do we think happened?” Josh frowned and Carson shook her head, which was enough to tell him that she didn’t have a clue. David ran his hand over his face and shrugged,

“Look, let’s not panic. Maybe he went out to hunt, or went on a run?” David sounded unsure and the others knew there was a large likelihood that Stiles didn’t do that.

“He knows that Argent guy, right? Maybe he knows something,” Tanvi suggested and Carson nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe, let’s go find out,” she muttered.

The group walked as quickly as possible over to Chris’ RV, where the hunter was cleaning his pistol while sitting on the step up into the mobile home. He looked up in surprise when he heard the approaching steps and he eyed the faces of all four members of Stiles’ group. The concern and slight panic marking their faces made Chris know something was clearly up.  
“What can I do for you all?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Stiles is gone,” Carson stated and Chris nodded with a shrug,

“I saw him go over the wall last night. I tried tracking him, but I lost him by the morning,” Chris replied and sighed, “He’s not in a good place right now,”

“Because he killed Jason?” Carson asked, causing Tanvi, Josh and David to all recoil slightly in shock beside her,

“I’m not sure. He was never one to open up to me,” Chris shrugged, “do you know if he’d go anywhere in particular?”

“He was heading back to Beacon Hills, but he seemed solid on bringing us all with him,” Tanvi muttered and Chris nodded,

“If I learnt anything about Stiles during the years I’ve known him, is that there will be times where he feels like he needs to do something on his own. He might think you’re all safe here, so he’s going ahead on his own…” Chris trailed off and remembered back to the signs that Stiles wasn’t okay since they’d reconnected. The slight hesitation of when he killed George, the shakiness of his words and complete assertiveness he held when justifying what he’d done to Jason. If someone else would’ve been upset by Stiles’ actions, he would always feel sorry about it even if he didn’t deep down, “he’s been declining for the past few weeks I’d say,” Chris muttered and Carson narrowed her eyes.

“What should we do?” David asked quickly and Chris shook his head slightly,

“Honestly, I’d let him come back in his own time-“

“Can we go look for him? You can show us where you lost him,” Carson cut Chris off and the older man eyed her with curiosity. Stiles chose his group well, or at least found a good group. They were all fiercely protective and loyal to one another. It was admirable, and also a liability in a world that sometimes demanded self-preservation over group survival. Stiles got that, Chris knew Carson did too, but the others were another story.

“You’d have to ask Sarge, I don’t have control here,” Chris stated and Carson took it with a nod, turning to leave the hunters territory.

Sasha watched from afar, her eyes glued to the group talking. She bent down, pretending that she was washing some clothes while children ran around her. She wasn’t subtle and she knew it, but she was curious about what the group was talking about. No doubt Stiles was the topic of choice, since she hadn’t seen him at all since the previous afternoon. She was so focused on what was playing out that she didn’t register someone coming up behind her. A hand on her shoulder caused her to jump and she spun around, coming to her feet mid-spin.

“Why are you watching them?” Sarge asked with a raised eyebrow and Sasha scowled,

“Why does it matter?” Sasha grunted and Sarge frowned,

“My right hand was just killed, you’re off in wonderland and Chris is helping the little runts,” Sarge growled, moving a step closer into Sasha’s personal space.

“What’d you expect would happen once _you_ brought them here?” Sasha crossed her arms and eyed Sarge, watching the tenseness of his body language.

“_You_ told me where they were! _You_ told me I’d probably like them!” Sarge jerked his head forward in frustration, “don’t think I haven’t noticed your influence here,” Sasha nodded slowly in surprise. She clearly didn’t give him enough credit.

“Interesting…and yet you’re still in this position,” Sasha stepped back and began pacing around Sarge, the older man’s eyes following her.

“Up until now, I’ve agreed with your vision for this place, but you seem to be set on pushing me out. Why?” Sarge asked and suddenly Sasha could see vulnerability in the hardened military man.

“I got bored,” Sasha shrugged,

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Sarge growled and Sasha stopped to face him, a single eyebrow raised. It only took a second, but Sarge lifted his hand and thrust it towards Sasha, slapping her across the cheek. Sasha recoiled in surprise and lifted her eyes back to Sarge, but this time they were glowing a burning orange, the edges of her irises tinged red.

“You’d best remember who’s in charge here,” Sasha thrust her hands outward and what looked like orange sparks or lightning danced around her arms and fingers. Sarge stepped back quickly and stumbled to the ground, his eyes wide and frightened. Sasha looked up, noticing that she had drawn the attention of others in the camp and the sparks dissipated into nothing, her burning eyes reverting back to their usual dark brown.

“What the hell are you?” Sarge asked with wide eyes. Sasha glanced back down to the older man before shaking her head and walking away.

* * *

Stiles knelt next to the deer hoof-prints and looked ahead, trying to find where the dear ran to. A stick breaking nearby got Stiles to stand and raise his gun. He looked around and slowly dropped his duffel bag to the ground. Stiles walked in a small half-circle around his duffel and kept his eyes eye. He let out a low whistle, one that only anything close would be able to hear. The snarling of a corpse caught Stiles’ attention and he faced the direction it came from. Stiles switched his gun for his knife and kept himself steady. The zombie moved out of the tree line, fresh blood around its mouth, and Stiles readied himself, his stance steady. When the zombie got close enough, Stiles pounced and stuck his knife into its head.

When it was dead, Stiles picked up his duffel and kept moving in the direction of the hoof-prints. He came upon the half-eaten carcass of the deer he was tracking and sighed. He wasn’t getting to eat anytime soon. With a grunt, Stiles walked back towards the main road. He’d been walking for too long and didn’t quite know where he was in relation to the camp. He didn’t think it was good for him to be along with his thoughts, but it was better than the alternative, better than getting more people killed.

_“It’ll happen whether you like it or not,”_ That voice was new. It had only shown up since he left and Stiles couldn’t bring himself to even attribute the name to the voice, but he knew that voice like the back of his hand, he knew it as if it were _his own_. It wasn’t, not quite, it was someone else with the same voice, someone darker and more twisted than Stiles could ever be no matter how monstrous he became, _“Oh, Stiles…you’ve been out here too long,”_ the voice drawled and Stiles just kept walking.

He passed groups of corpses, but never paid attention to them. They always walked slower than he did, so he let them follow, he let them stumble and snarl, clawing at the air to get to something just out of their reach. They were human. _Once_. They no longer got the luxury of being considered human. Neither did a lot of the people still alive. Only survivors lived in this world, people willing to do practically anything to ensure they lived, and some of those people didn’t deserve to be called human. Stiles thought he might be one of those people.

It got dark and Stiles found himself huddled in the cold, staring at the wooden door of an old cabin, abandoned before everything happened judging by just how clean it was besides the layer of dust over everything. It started raining heavily and all Stiles could do was stare at the hard raindrops on the windows of the cabin, the only light inside being candlelight. He could hear the sounds of the dead outside, and a part of Stiles felt like he should join them.

He moved in a haze for what seemed like days. The morning after finding the cabin, Stiles left to continue down the road. The storm was heavier than it had seemed, and trees had fallen, catching several members of the undead in the process. Stiles avoided their clawing hands, trying to get to him from under their eternal prisons, and kept going in the direction of the road. He walked as if he no longer was a resident of the Earth, but rather a visitor. It wasn’t a man’s world anymore, it wasn’t populated with humanity, industry and civilisation anymore. It belonged to the undead.

Stiles came upon a prison, one that looked relatively untouched. He figured some prisoners would still be inside, alive, dead or walking like they lived, he didn’t know. Outside the prison was a field of abandoned cars and Stiles found himself sitting on the roof of a van - the tallest vehicle around - just staring at the prison. His thoughts drifted to what might’ve happened if zombies hadn’t taken over the world. Maybe he would’ve been in a prison like the one in front of him, or maybe he would’ve been putting people inside. His life could’ve gone two distinct ways if what happened didn’t happen, but instead he found himself on the path of death and destruction, and he didn’t know if he was trying to beat death or revelling in creating it.

Through his thoughts, Stiles saw someone run across the prison yard, an older man it looked like, being chased by a group of zombies. Stiles’ trigger finger itched and he fought to resist the urge to jump to the man’s aid. He watched on as the man tried to fight off the zombies with what looked like knives and Stiles jumped to the ground, off the van.

_“You’re worried about creating more death, right?”_ Scott’s voice sounded from behind his ear and Stiles knew exactly what that meant.

With a grunt, Stiles made his way towards the prion yard and readied his gun. Stiles squeezed through a hole in the fence and starting shooting at the zombies. The attention was suddenly on him, and he just kept firing like he was in a trance. He vaguely registered the man using his knives to tear a zombie apart and puncture another in the skull. Stiles kept pulling the trigger until it clicked and he holstered his gun to use his knife on the last zombie. He thrust the knife into the zombie’s temple and fell to the ground with it.

“Thanks,” the man said and held out a hand to help Stiles up. Stiles didn’t quite register what he looked like, but when he did he saw another familiar face. The second one in a few weeks that he’d seen. Cold blue eyed stared at him with a speck of surprise, his short greyish brown hair was even greyer than the last time they’d seen each other, and his facial hair had grown in a bit since, but it was still unmistakably Peter Hale.

“Peter?” Stiles stepped back once he was to his feet and he and Peter stared at each other for what seemed like minutes.

“Well this is certainly a surprise…” Peter trailed off with a slightly confused, and what looked like relieved expression,

“You’re one to talk. What the hell are you doing in a prison?” Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow. He looked Peter up and down, only just noticing the other man wore a prison uniform. He was an inmate.

“Well, surprise, surprise I got caught up in…well let’s just say illegal activities after we last saw each other. It wasn’t long until the freaking apocalypse started, so I thought I’d stay indoors,” He gestured vaguely to the prison and Stiles rolled his eyes. Of course.

“Self preservation. Nice,” Stiles muttered,

“And you?” Peter gestured with his hand for Stiles to keep talking and Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“I was at GWU when it happened. I got out with my roommate and we found a group. We started travelling out this way because I wanted to get back to Beacon Hills and some of them wanted to see if some family were okay on thew way,” Stiles said simply without giving too much away to Peter.

“And they all died?” Peter asked and Stiles shook his head,

“No, the one’s that are still around are safe at a camp nearby,” Stiles told him,

“Ah…and you left why?” Peter started walking back towards the main building and Stiles followed him subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles muttered and Peter eyed him intensely, coming to a stop for only a second before he kept walking.

“Either way, welcome to my humble abode,” Peter said as he opened the main door into one cell block, “you won’t find any other prisoners or the dead for a while so make yourself at home for time being, you look like you need to sleep,” Peter said and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

The cell block was relatively clean, but it smelt musty and like there was blood somewhere nearby. Some of the cells were torn up, the plaster on the walls crumbling away, the thin mattress on the beds being nothing but a bunch of foam scraps, and some of the sinks and toilets were falling off the wall. Stiles looked around with his nose turned up, but was grateful for the shelter.

“Why are you being nice?” Stiles asked Peter eventually after looking around the cell block thoroughly.

“Don’t get used to it,” was Peter’s response, and Stiles took it as good sign considering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> I just want to thank you guys for sticking with this fic. I know it might seem a little iffy where it's heading right now, but I promise you guys good things are coming relatively soon. There will only be a maximum of 30 chapters on this fic, but I'm aiming for 25-ish. Even if you don't like where it's going currently, all I ask is that you stick with it for a while because this point I'm at in the fic is actually the lowest point Stiles is going to be in, in this fic. As you can probably tell by the ending of this chapter, we're going to spend some time with Peter for a bit before we go back to the rest of the group, which we will.
> 
> I've got plans for this fic, and we're actually nearing the end of the main story before we get to Beacon Hills. The whole fic has been leading to it!


	15. A Lesson in Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Peter bond over some recent shared life experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!
> 
> This chapter includes a mention of sexual assault and abuse. It does not go into detail at all, it is just a reference to such an event that happened prior to the apocalypse.
> 
> I tried to go without the mention, however I felt it added a bit to the scene and the tenseness of the situation, so I left it there. I apologise if it makes anyone feel uncomfortable, it's not a situation I'd ever take lightly and there will never be another mention of it in this fic.

The deer grazed lazily in a small forest clearing. Stiles held the animal in the crosshairs of the crossbow Peter had given him. The two had gone out early in the morning and Peter was dead set on getting a deer for breakfast. Stiles supposed the apocalypse brought out some of the werewolf’s more primal, animalistic urges. When the deer raised its head to look at Stiles, he took the shot, the bolt sailing into the deer’s side. The deer made a small squeak before stumbling as it tried to move. It took only a second, and the deer was on its side breathing heavily. Stiles held the crossbow down and swung it around so the crossbow was at his back, the sling over one shoulder.

“I just killed Bambi’s mom,” Stiles grimaced as he moved forward to look at his kill. The deer was still alive and breathing, so Stiles took out his knife and plunged it into the deer’s head,

“Somehow I doubt that’s the worst thing you’ve done in the apocalypse,” Peter stepped out of the tree line holding a bunch of rabbits in one hand.

“Doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it, deer’s are innocent, people these days aren’t,” Stiles stated, hauling the deer over one shoulder so the two could make their way back to the prison.

As they began the walk back to the prison, Stiles took the time to reflect on the area he’d found himself in, and miraculously found Peter in. It was quiet, almost unnervingly so, with animals walking around and barely any zombies. It was a break that Stiles needed, and something he didn’t think he’d get. Stiles had been out in the open for too long, and he was beginning to realise just how much it was changing him.

_“I think maybe you’re just realising who you actually are for the first time,”_ Jason sat on the roof of a nearby car and Stiles didn’t even look over to make eye contact with his hallucination.

“Your heart rate just spiked,” Peter muttered and Stiles looked over at the other man, “want to tell me why?”

“Not particularly,” Stiles grumbled, “want to shut up?”

“Not particularly,” Peter repeated, mockingly, “I think it’s about time you tell me what’s happened to you,”

“Do I owe you that?” Stiles stopped and stared at Peter with an almost thunderous look on his face. When Peter didn’t answer, Stiles scoffed and kept walking, “didn’t think so,”

“You’re definitely far more irritable than you used to be,” Peter rolled his eyes and Stiles grumbled in response.

When they got back to the prison, Stiles immediately went to work in skinning and portioning off the deer with his knife, while Peter did the same with the rabbits. Stiles held back the bile that rose into his throat. He was less unnerved by blood, but it was a deer, that he killed, he figured he could be forgiven for feeling a little nauseous. If Peter noticed, he didn’t mention it. He felt Peter looking at him occasionally, primarily with curiosity he guessed. Stiles didn’t particularly want to talk to the older man too much, but he figured a question or two would be asked before long, so he thought he’d get it out of the way.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, stopping what he was doing to simply stare at Peter. Peter sighed and set down his knife,

“I know you well enough that something’s bothering you at the moment, and your aversion to telling me isn’t going to make me stop asking,” Peter stated and Stiles should’ve known,

“Why the sudden curiosity in my personal problems?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, it’s not because I actually care about your mental state,” Peter scoffed, but Stiles knew Peter cared at least a little bit, otherwise he wouldn’t even be asking, “i’m simply curious,” Stiles didn’t doubt that, but he also knew Peter well enough to know that simple and pure curiosity wasn’t enough for the werewolf to get involved in other people’s personal affairs.

“What do you think happened to me?” Stiles asked, mustering up the meanest glare he could morph his face into. The look on Peter’s face told him it wasn’t successful, however.

“I think…I think you’ve had to do some shit that you’re not proud of,”

“Well…you think correct,” Stiles sighed and tried to go back to focussing on the deer that was partially skinned in front of him.

“It’s not that hard to see. Everyone I’ve encountered who hasn’t been inside four walls since the beginning has had to do things they never would have done otherwise, except you’re a little bit of a different case,” Peter hummed and Stiles felt like he was being assessed.

“How so?” Stiles regarded Peter with an annoyed glance and Peter only chuckled lightly in response.

“I know you, Stiles, and I know how well you fit into this sort of world. I was watching you when you helped me with the undead the other day. You were savage, like you lost yourself to it,” Peter began, and Stiles looked back at the deer almost in shame, “I also know that you’ve always had two sides to your actions. The primal side, the darker side that often enjoys committing such acts, or even just itches to commit them, and then there’s the human side that’s appalled by such acts. Let’s face it, since the Nogitsune, you’ve been different and the struggle between the two sides has never been more present,” Peter watched Stiles for a reaction, but was surprised to not find an outward sign of distress or shame, past the aversion of eye contact, and instead had to listen to the younger man’s heartbeat for any sign of his state.

“You’re wrong,” Stiles muttered and Peter frowned, “It’s not a primal side that aches for violence, _that’s_ the human side,” at Peter’s confusion, Stiles went on, “humans always resort to violence, it’s a base instinct. In these situations, humans also revert back to these instincts. It’s not primal, _that’s_ what being human is sometimes,”

“Interesting…” Peter drawled, “So what was it that’s got you so torn up?”

“Look, even before this I had blood on my hands, no surprise there, but after…on the fucking first day that it got to DC, I killed an innocent old woman because she was bitten. Since then I’ve killed more innocent people than I would’ve liked, and on top of it all I’ve done some pretty messed up shit just so I could stay alive,” Stiles was breathing heavily as he spoke, fighting to keep down his heart rate just so he could stay coherent, “and now i’m-i’m hallucinating Scott, A-Allison, the fucking guy I killed last week, and the Nogitsune and I just want it to stop!” Stiles stood up quickly, knocking the chair he was sitting on over as he stalked angrily to another table just to kick it over with a yell. Peter looked interested, slightly worried and also sympathetic - which surprised Stiles.

“What are they saying?” Peter asked and Stiles froze to stare at him.

“What?”

“What are the hallucinations saying to you?” Peter asked once again, and Stiles picked up his chair to sit down again.

“They berate me, judge me and generally make me feel like shit and that I’m losing my damn mind,” Stiles growled and Peter just nodded.

“Leave the deer for now,” Peter stated as he stood, “You and I are going outside,”

“Again? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Stiles grumbled, but stood up anyway.

“You’ll see. Just trust me,” Peter sighed and Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Look, we get along relatively well, but when you say ‘trust me’, it gets me nervous,” Stiles said. Peter simply rolled his eyes and went to leave the prison, Stiles hot on his heels.

On their way out, Peter grabbed a shotgun, handed Stiles the crossbow and picked up a handgun while Stiles secured his pistol in his holster. Without saying a word, the two made their way out of the prison, then out of the prison yard so they were out in the open. Stiles slowed as Peter walked ahead, driving his claws through the skull of a nearby zombie. Peter turned to Stiles, noticing his hesitation.

“All I want is for you to follow me. I’m trying to help you, Stiles, if you let me,” Peter said and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“How can you help me?” Stiles asked,

“Believe it or not, Stiles, I have some experience in this area,” Peter sighed and rolled his eyes.

The two continued on into the forest, taking down passing zombies on their way, until they came to a log cabin situated by a creek. At Stiles’ confusion, Peter smirked and walked up the stairs of the cabin porch. Stiles walked up after him hesitantly, but stopped when he heard a faint noise of something moving around inside. He quickly pulled out his knife and exchanged a glance with Peter. The older man shook his head and opened the door. Stiles, still with his knife in his hand, followed Peter with footsteps as light as a coyote. Peter led him into the living room of the cabin, and Stiles nearly put his knife on Peter when he saw what was inside.

“What the fuck, Peter?” Stiles exclaimed loudly.

Inside the living room, strung up to the ceiling rafters by his wrists like the corpse of an animal ready to be butchered, was a man in a prison’s uniform. He had overgrown hair and a beard that formed an odd shape around the gag in his mouth, eyes that seemed almost dead and skin so pale Stiles would’ve thought he was a vampire in a prior life. His frame was gaunt, bones were showing as he’d obviously been starved. The man had been cruelly left there by Peter, and Stiles wasn’t sure how it’d help him.

“This scumbag is Daniel,” Peter said, walking up to the man. Daniel’s wrists were bloody and red raw from the restraints, and he tried to kick out at Peter when the werewolf got close enough, “he was my cellmate. When I met him, I couldn’t wait to kill him,” Peter smirked and Stiles suddenly felt a chill run up his spine.

“How the fuck will this help me?” Stiles asked, “this is sick, man!”

“Do you want to know what Daniel did to land him in prison?” Peter asked and Stiles felt himself nod without even thinking, “Daniel here abused his girlfriend. When she got away from him, he hunted her down, raped and murdered her, along with her boyfriend at the time. What do you think he deserves?” Peter asked Stiles, and Stiles didn’t quite know what to say,

“I think if you hadn’t have kept him here, he would’ve been dead when this all started, like most scumbags,” Stiles said, and Peter gave him a nod of what seemed like approval,

“I may be a little…what you call ‘whacked’ in the head, but I do care about somethings. I cared when I learnt that Daniel was about to be released, that his sentence wasn’t even that long because the police and the jury didn’t find distinct evidence that he killed his ex and her boyfriend,” Peter explained and Stiles bit his lip, his trigger finger twitching, “now, I’ll ask you again. What do you think he deserves?”

“I don’t…you can’t force this on me Peter!” Stiles exclaimed, his voice raising as he stepped away from the scene in front of him,

“Stiles, what I’m trying to tell you is that sometimes the situation presents itself where you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. In this world, survival is key, but sometimes things like this present themselves,” Peter stated, clearly seeing the distress on Stiles’ face, “What if it was Lydia who was the victim of this?” Stiles shook his head, trying not to think of the disturbing images that immediately popped into his head, “what would you do to the guy that did it?”

_“You’d kill him,”_ The Nogitsune’s voice echoed behind his ear,

“I’d kill him,” Stiles repeated in barely a whisper. Peter looked satisfied with the answer and nodded, stepping back from Daniel, gesturing openly with his hands as if inviting Stiles forward. Tempted, Stiles stepped forward half a step, clutching his knife so hard his hand was white from the pressure.

_“It would’t take much to kill him in this position,” _The Nogitsune hummed and Stiles froze.

“I can’t…” Stiles trailed off and shook his head. He stepped back and looked back at Peter, “I _would_, but I can’t. Not like this,” Peter pursed his lips but gave Stiles a half nod,

“So what would you suggest we do?” Peter asked and Stiles looked back at Daniel and thought for only a second.

“Tie him up outside,” Stiles said and Peter’s eyebrows raised slightly, “let the dead get him,”

“That’s quite cruel Stiles,” Peter smirked and Stiles eyed him with a grunt, “I think I like this side of you,”

“You would,” Stiles shook his head, “You said it yourself, he’s a scumbag,” Stiles gestured wildly in Daniel’s direction. He took one look in Daniel’s eyes, eyes that were pleading, and looked away. Stiles had done a lot of bad shit since the apocalypse started, and he figured he needed to take a firm position rather than agonise about his choices for days on end.

“I did indeed,” Peter used his claws to break the rope tying Daniel up and use the remainder of the rope to pull Daniel with him as he made his way outside.

Stiles pointed out the spot - a fence post that was far enough away from the house that Daniel couldn’t pick something up to help him get out - and Peter pulled Daniel along to tie him at the post. Stiles seemed to turn off all emotion in that moment. He watched as Peter tied Daniel up, but didn’t feel anything. He supposed it was a bad sign, but he rationalised it that Daniel was a bad person, but there was always going to be that thought in the back of Stiles’ head that he deserved the same fate. Stiles had more blood on his hands than probably the entire population of Beacon Hills before the apocalypse.

“I’m not a good guy, Peter,” Stiles muttered and Peter nodded, looking Stiles straight in the eyes.

“I know,” Peter stated, “I’m not either. You haven’t really been the good guy for a few years now, Stiles. You’ve been on the right side, but you’ve not been the good guy, not really,”

“I know,” Stiles sighed and turned away from the sight of Daniel tugging against the fence post with no luck, “How do you live with it?”

_“Keep doing it,” _The Nogitsune shrugged from it’s sitting position on the steps up to the porch of the cabin,

“Compartmentalise,” Peter told Stiles, and he understood as that’s what he’d been doing mostly, “If you don’t do that, you can’t live with it. It gets easier, as I’m sure you know which is what sent you into this spiral,”

“It’s like a virus, killing, being cruel…” Stiles trailed off and shook his head, “you do it once, you can’t really stop,”

“The thing about you, Stiles, is you’ve had this side practically your entire teenage to adult life, it’s just you’ve had Scott behind you to tell you when enough was enough and when something was wrong. You don’t have Scott at the moment, all you have are zombies to kill and people to try and save, but if you can’t, you sometimes have to kill them,” Peter explained as the two began the walk back to the prison, “The side of your personality that’s been so restricted back in Beacon Hills has been unleashed at full force these days. It’s what makes you seem so adjusted in the middle of the apocalypse from the outside, it’s what makes you seem like you were born for such events…and it’s probably what I saw when I offered you the bite,”

“Yeah…you’re right,” Stiles sighed, “I don’t think you’ve ever been this…not kind but tolerating of me, I suppose. You’ve never tried so hard to get me in a good mental state,” Peter chuckled and shook his head,

“You’re an adult now, Stiles, and we have something in common these days. You used to just be this nuisance, a hyperactive kid that couldn’t stop talking, but notice we never _not_ got along?” Peter said, and Stiles couldn’t help but think back to the amount of times the two had actively worked together, and even shared some moments of what Stiles could maybe call some form of friendship.

“Huh…you’re right,” Stiles shrugged with a humourless laugh - one done out of realisation more than anything.

“You said your friends were in a nearby camp?” Peter asked, changing the subject,

“Yeah…I should probably go back,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck in shame, “I left in the middle of a mental breakdown,”

“I think I’ve lived in solitude for long enough. Do you think I could move into this camp?” Peter asked genuinely and Stiles widened his eyes slightly in surprise,

“I mean, I guess. It’s not up to me though,” Stiles shrugged, “I have to warn you though, Argent’s there,”

“Excuse me?” Peter stopped walking and whirled around on Stiles who had stopped as well, “Of all people, really?”

“Hey, I just ran into him and the leader of the camp - but not actually the leader of the camp if you know what I mean - took my group back,” Stiles put his hands up in mock defence and Peter stepped back slightly.

“Fine, I guess I can tolerate being around Argent,” Peter rolled his eyes but Stiles could see slight relief that someone else he knew was around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm on holidays now, I'll try to update as often as possible, meaning I'm not sticking to a consistent upload pattern, but I will still try for at least one chapter a week until this fic is finished.


	16. Challenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...
> 
> Please read the end notes

Sarge watched from the window of his RV as the residents of the camp went about their day. He saw Sasha walking around and talking to people, playing with children and generally helping around, but he couldn’t help but feel enraged at the sight of the woman. Who was she to think she could get away with manipulating him? He wasn’t going to be a puppet anymore, he didn’t spend years in the military to just be used like a child’s doll.

He grabbed his gun from the kitchenette bench and stuffed it into the waistband of his pants. With a new sense of purpose, Sarge exited the RV and walked through the camp, surveying the surroundings and the people. All of those men, women and children didn’t know what was past the walls, they weren’t ready to survive, they were all weak. It was _him_ that was helping everyone stay afloat, _not her_. He scowled and made his way towards Sasha, who spotted him quickly and frowned.

“What do you want?” Sasha asked, putting her hands on her hips. The women she was helping put up some washed clothes to dry gave her a confused glance as the generally personable and helpful woman disappeared in favour of an annoyed, commanding woman. Sasha noted the other women’s glances, so she put on a friendly face and turned to them, “I’m sorry, I’ll have to talk to Sarge for a bit. I’ll come back when we’re done talking, okay?” The women nodded and Sasha went to walk away from them, Sarge following stiffly. Sasha led Sarge to the alleyway between two RV’s, “What do you want?” Sasha repeated.

“Do you think you can keep playing puppet master without anyone knowing?” Sarge asked with a raised eyebrow. Sasha sighed and stared at Sarge, her eyes devoid of emotion or interest.

“I think I can continue running this place the way you never could,” Sasha replied,

“You’ve controlled me for far too long, I’ve had enough!” Sarge growled and Sasha shrugged.

“I’ve let you have your fun. You were always the face of this place, never the one truly in charge. _Everyone_ could tell that you weren’t the one in charge of this place, it was always so obvious, people listened to Chris more than you, they were just more afraid of you when you get erratic,” Sasha explained and Sarge chewed on the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

“Just because you’re some freaky ass creature, doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re better than the rest of us,” Sarge held his head low and his voice threatening, but Sasha was unfazed.

“I’m not just some ‘freaky ass creature’, and you best remember that,” Sasha’s eyes burned orange, the brightness enough for Sarge to avert his eyes, “I am much older than you could even comprehend, my power knows no bounds as does my knowledge. You are simply a human, weak and unchanging. You put on a good show, but nobody will ever respect you or look up to you as a leader,” Sarge’s eyes were drawn to Sasha’s shadow where a hazy image of at least a dozen tails protruded from her lower back. Sarge was sure he was daydreaming in that moment. “Even _Stiles_ gathers more respect than you ever will, he is looked up to. Not because he is simply a good leader, but because there is power drumming through his veins. He may be human, but he has been in contact with one of my kind,”

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re on about,” Sarge grunted and Sasha rolled her eyes,

“You wouldn’t,” Sasha smirked and her eyes returned to their usual shade of dark brown, “you can play all the pieces you want, sacrifice as many pawns as possible, but you will _never beat me_! You will _never_ be in control of this place, you should just stick to living in it,” with those words, Sasha turned on her heel and left Sarge to his own.

Sarge stared after her with narrow eyes and in that moment, Sarge made a decision. With a sense of purpose, he pulled out his gun, climbed on top of one of the RV’s and pointed his gun into the air. He shot off one round and watched as the people inhabiting the camp all stopped their activities to stare at Sarge. He saw Sasha scowl from her spot back with the women hanging laundry, and Stiles’ people - along with Chris - standing in one corner looking confused. He had their attention. Good.

“Things are about to be very different,” Sarge grinned and Carson found herself flinching. She turned to whisper to David who was standing next to her.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” She muttered and David nodded in agreement, taking her hand in his.

“From now on, what I say goes. There’s no room for disobedience anymore, you disobey, you die,” Sarge stated, “everyone needs to learn how to fight, everyone needs to learn how to use a weapon. This is non-negotiable for everyone able!” Sasha stalked up to the RV, looking up at Sarge with a thunderous look on her face.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Sasha growled, eyes flashing orange. Sarge smiled at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief,

“I’m taking control, exactly like you said I wouldn’t,” Sarge told her and Sasha shook her head.

“They’re not going to listen to you,” She said and Sarge shrugged,

“We’ll see,” Sarge made a gesture towards Sasha with his hand, and two of his men - the most loyal residents of the camp to Sarge, men who often accompanied him outside the walls and often protected it - came up behind Sasha and grabbed her by the arms.

Sasha let out a yell just as the crowd gasped in shock. Sasha’s eyes burned orange as she tried to free herself from the men, but she wasn’t as strong as a werewolf, and the men who had grabbed her were stronger. She let out a growl as sparks of orange electricity danced off her body, jumping from her to the men who held her. The men yelled out in pain, but kept their hold on Sasha. Sasha then intensified her fox fire and the men flew backwards, allowing her to get free. Sasha zeroed in on Sarge, who growled, and then in an instant, Sasha was on the floor, a man standing behind her with the butt of his rifle aimed at where her head was. She was knocked out.

“Sir?” The man asked and Sarge glanced over to an old storehouse at the edge of the property they were occupying. The man nodded and picked Sasha up to take her to the storehouse.

“If you don’t comply, you will be taken to the storehouse,” Sarge yelled out over the camp and the people were silent, “is that clear?” Everyone nodded or murmured a ‘yes’. Sarge nodded and climbed down from the RV, walking over towards Chris and Stiles’ group. “Chris,”

“Sarge,” Chris responded with a nod,

“I trust you’ll be behind me on this? It’s been too long since I held actual control over this place. Sasha has played everyone like puppets,” Sarge growled to himself and Chris sent him a convincing nod of agreement.

“Of course I’ll be behind you. I owe you,” Chris responded and Sarge gave him an appreciative smile,

“Good…good…” He trailed off and turned to face Carson, “And your group? I hope you’ll stay out of trouble,”

“We will,” Carson said with a tight-lipped smile. Sarge didn’t notice the insincerity of her expression and nodded in approval, turning to leave.

“We’re not actually going to just bow down to the guy, are we?” David hissed at Carson and she shook her head,

“Of course not,” she looked to Chris, “you’ll help us right?” At Chris’ nod, Carson looked back to the group, eyes glancing over everyone. Tyler was huddled into Samuel’s side, while Kyle and Robin had their arms around each other, Tanvi stood tall and ready for a fight while Hailey and Julia fell towards the back of the group, Henry and Josh closer to the front with David next to Carson.

“What’s our next move?” Josh asked and Carson exchanged a glance with Tanvi,

“We go over the wall, and find Stiles,” Carson said. She looked to Henry and he nodded in approval,

“Without Stiles, we’re just a bunch of ordinary people who sort of know how to fight back,” David stated, “Minus Henry, of course,” he added, “either way, we need him and the people here could really use him too,”

“Stiles was suspicious of Sarge from the start, he’s always had great instincts like that,” Chris said, “now we know why, I just wasn’t aware that Sasha was involved,”

“Does it matter?” Tanvi asked, “Sarge is on a power trip,”

“Sure, but if we can get Sasha out, it’d be great to have a Kitsune on our side,” Chris muttered,

“A what?” David asked with narrowed eyes,

“A Kitsune,” Carson said, “a Japanese fox spirit,” she bit her lip as she watched the confused and slightly surprised looks from the group. Chris smiled lightly and shook his head with a laugh.  
“I thought I recognised you, or at least your name. You’re Carson Ellis, right?” At Carson’s nod, Chris continued “I knew your father, he was a hunter that trained under my father,”

“Yeah, yeah he was…” Carson sighed, “he was also the bastard that abused my mother _and_ me, for my whole life. I hope he’s dead,”

“In that case, so do I. I’m sorry, truly, my own father was similar, though he was more a militant hunter and an evil son of a bitch,” Chris gave Carson a sympathetic smile before he looked back at the group, “Carson’s right, Sasha’s a Japanese fox spirit, and from my knowledge they can be extremely powerful,”

“She got knocked out by a rifle,” David pointed out and Chris nodded,

“Sure, but you were watching the same thing I was, right? She killed those two men with fox fire,” Chris said with a raised eyebrow and David conceded with a shrug.

“Maybe we should wait a while, see how things are going before we try anything with Sasha, or try to leave,” Tanvi said, “keep up appearances for a while,”

“Good idea,” Chris nodded, “Sarge needs to be completely faithful in us before we try anything,”

* * *

Over the course of a day, the quality of life in the camp diminished. Everyone was being worked twice as hard, with less breaks. Sarge’s men patrolled the camp constantly and people were being taken from the camp to the storehouse daily. Even teenagers and children were being taken, so soon enough Sarge was controlling everyone, and the ones that resisted were locked up or dead. Sarge’s behaviour went from slightly worrying to full on controlling and unstable. For a man that had set off Stiles’ bad guy radar from word go, he got worse.

Carson managed to gather everyone to behind an RV on the edge of the border to the camp late at night. They were going to get out of there, but they weren’t going to get Sasha. It was too risky, even though she would have been a great asset. Without ever saying a word to each other in order to keep themselves as quiet was possible, they each made their way over the fence. Tyler was first to go over, then Julia and the rest followed suit. As they were making their way into the tree line of the forest that bordered one side of the camp, a bright, white light shone over them and they froze.

From the wall, Sarge was standing with his men, each of them shining their flashlights over the group, and each of them aiming their weapons at them. Carson held Tanvi back from going to pull out their gun, and Chris held his hands up in surrender. The rest of the group followed his lead and they all put their hands up, staying as still as possible.

“I really thought you were going to do the right thing,” Sarge shook his head with a sigh, “I’m disappointed in you, Chris,”

“You turned this place into a dictatorship! I had enough of that under my father,” Chris responded with a growl that could rival a werewolf’s. Sarge didn’t respond, and turned his attention to Carson.

“A part of me thought that without Stiles around, you lot would be a lot smarter,” Sarge sneered and Tanvi huffed from next to Carson,

“What did you do with him?” Tanvi asked with a yell, baring her teeth like an animal.

“Nothing, unfortunately. He decided to leave on his own,” Sarge waved the question off and turned back to his men, “kill them,”

Carson’s eyes widened and put her hands down, as did the others. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Samuel push Tyler towards the tree line just as Sarge and his men aimed their weapons at them and started firing. Carson grabbed Tanvi’s hand, just as Chris pushed Josh and Henry towards the trees. Carson saw Emma follow with Julia in front of her, but once the group were further into the trees, nobody else followed. Carson stared in the direction they’d come from for several minutes, hoping that the rest of their group somehow made it through the sea of bullets.

“We need to move, he might send some people out to find us,” Tanvi said gently from behind Carson, a hand on her shoulder. Carson turned and looked at Tanvi as tears started falling down her face,

“But David…” She trailed off and her shoulders hunched inwards and shook. She put her hand to her mouth and shook her head, “This can’t happen…not now…” she muttered and Tanvi furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“We have to go back!” Henry exclaimed loudly. He looked ready for a fight, “Hailey’s there, I can’t-I can’t lose her too,” he ran a hand over his face and shook his head,

“Henry, I understand,” Chris said quickly, hands out in front of him trying to calm the situation, “we don’t know what happened, but we need to regroup before we do _anything_ like going back,”

“He was going to _kill her_!” Henry seethed, eyes low as he stared at Chris, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose your wife? What it’s like to lose your daughter?”

“Yes,” Chris nodded, “more than you realise. I lost my wife, and barely a year later, I lost my daughter,” at that, Henry recoiled and his eyes softened, “believe me, I know how it feels,”

“Then how could you keep me here?” Henry asked,

“Because without you in your right mind, this group _will_ die. You’re as much of a leader to them as Stiles is, as Carson is,” Chris explained, “we need you here,” Henry nodded slowly and sighed,

“My little girl…” He trailed off and frowned, “I’ll fight for her,”

“That’s the spirit,” Chris smiled,

Julia was sitting against a rock, Tyler huddled close to her as he cried. He’d only lost his mother less than six months earlier, and he was faced with the prospect of losing his father. Julia, having lost her own parents before the apocalypse even started, was equipped to help deal with the loss, but was still dealing with the loss of her grandfather.

“It’ll be okay,” Julia whispered to Tyler who nodded shakily in her arms,

“Okay, everyone!” Chris said loudly, rallying the group together, “Sarge will more than likely be sending people our way,” he looked to Henry who took a deep breath.

“I know we’re all dealing with what happened, but I need everyone here to be strong so we can try our best to get them back. I’m not going down without a fight, and I don’t think any of you will,” Henry said confidently, though it was easy to see the confidence hid his true worries.

“I know of a place close enough that we can get there before morning, it’s easy to defend, and it’s comfortable. There’s barely any of the undead walking around,” Chris sighed and glanced over to Carson, “we’ll go and look for Stiles in the morning if we can,”

Soon, they were off and following Chris’ lead. They encountered barely any zombies on the way, and just as it was starting to get lighter, they came upon an old log cabin by a river. Chris led everyone inside, and they each found a spot to themselves. Carson found herself on the back porch, eyes wandering over the lake as she watched the sun rise. Tanvi made her way out next to Carson and the two sat in silence for several minutes, that was until Tanvi spoke up.

“What you said before, about how all of this can’t happen now…” Tanvi trailed off as she saw Carson’s almost shameful expression, “What did you mean?”

“David and I, we…” She trailed off and shook her head, “I don’t know how secret it was, it wasn’t like we were really trying, but David and I got together sometime after he and Stiles came back,” Tanvi let out a light-hearted chuckle,

“You didn’t make it secret at all,” Tanvi shook her head in slight amusement, “everyone knew, we just didn’t say anything,” Carson smiles slightly but then looked down at her hands that were clasped by her stomach and then back at Tanvi,

“I think I’m pregnant,” Carson admitted in a whisper so low Tanvi had to strain herself to hear.

“What?” Tanvi’s eyes widened as Carson nodded. Tanvi stood in shock as Carson broke down. She dropped to her knees and cried into her hands as Tanvi stood above her unsure how to react, “oh my God…” Tanvi breathed.

* * *

Stiles led Peter down a road close to the camp. They had been travelling overnight, Stiles only then realising how far away the prison actually was from the camp. All he wanted to do was see his friends again, and even Peter was slightly excited to see Chris - though he’d never admit it.

“So what’s this camp like?” Peter asked and Stiles shrugged,

“I don’t trust the people that run it. There’s this woman who’s smarter than everyone else that’s using this unstable military guy to run the place. Both of them set off my frankly spot on bad guy detector,” Stiles shrugged.

They went to turn down the main road that liked directly to the camp. It was the only side of the camp that bordered a forest. As they walked down the road, the sounds of snarling corpses drew their attention, and Stiles pulled out his knife, his other hand situated firmly on his gun on his hip. Peter’s eyes burned blue and his claws were out at his side. They continued down the road, only more alert than they had been when they entered it.

It was only when the wall of the camp was visible that Stiles knew something was wrong. Black smoke curled up into the sky from inside the camp, and blood was splattered on the sheet metal of the wall. The two got closer, and that was when the figures of zombies that were chained to the trees became clear. Stiles and Peter stopped and stared at the zombies, Stiles’ eyes roaming their faces. He recognised people from the camp, their faces dull and lifeless, the decay of the normal undead that Stiles was used to seeing not yet upon them. They’d died recently.

Then, Stiles locked eyes with one zombie, a knife wound in its neck and clothes torn and tattered, almost falling off its body that Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. He recognised who that zombie used to be, and as he continued to look around at the undead that surrounded him, he found that he recognised more than one.

He felt his body shaking before his mind registered, and tears began to stream down his race rapidly. He let out a sob and fell to his knees, and Peter stood awkwardly behind him, not sure what to do. Stiles’ mind was screaming in a way that he couldn’t verbally. He felt like he was breaking, and the zombies in front of him all clawed the air to try and get to him. The snarling and groaning of the undead became louder in Stiles’ ears, the chains moving against the air and the trees were piercing and the lifeless eyes of the zombies that he _knew_ were going to haunt his nightmares. With the pressure of the tears and the pain he was experiencing building up, Stiles let it out in one single breath, with one single word.

“No,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS
> 
> This chapter was honestly hard to write. I had this planned for chapter 14, but my writing wasn't going as fast as my planning, so I delayed it a few chapters. Hope you enjoyed the chapter at least, even though Stiles was only in the end tag. I won't have time to write until next week sometimes (maybe in the middle of the week, but I'm not sure) so don't expect another chapter until then.
> 
> Next chapter you'll find out who exactly is dead, and who isn't. Will I be nice? Will I be cruel? Who knows?


	17. Making it Personal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys had a good Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate - or not at all!
> 
> I won't post until later this week or next week, so I'll say Happy New Year!!!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

A chain snapped, and that was all it took for Stiles to snap as well. He took out his machete, and stood. Peter could only watch from behind as Stiles made his way to the zombie that had freed itself. The blonde hair of what was recently a teenager girl was covered in red as Stiles swung his machete straight into its head.

“I’m so sorry…” Stiles trailed off and stood back from the zombie’s body,

“Who was she?” Peter asked and Stiles looked back at his travelling companion with eyes that were as dead as the zombies around them.

“Hailey…she was part of my group…oh God I’ll have to tell her dad,” Stiles sunk to his knees yet again and looked up at the zombie standing directly above him with both arms sitting at its feet, having been torn off likely before it died as there was no other visible wound on its body.

“Who else?” Peter asked softly, understanding Stiles’ grief at having lost people he cared about.

“David,” Stiles pointed to the zombie with the knife wound in its neck, “Robin,” Stiles gestured to the zombie above him, “that’s Samuel, he’s got a thirteen year old son,” Stiles pointed to another zombie whose legs were either gone or unable to be moved as it was crawling through the undergrowth, “and Kyle,” Stiles looked down at the zombified head just sitting by the zombified Robin’s feet, the body no where to be found.

“Did you know them well?” Peter asked,

“David was my roommate at college, and Samuel has been with our group from the beginning…” Stiles shook his head and wiped away a tear that wouldn’t form. He didn’t even think he could cry. He felt broken, truly broken, a feeling like no other, like nothing he had ever felt before. “I didn’t know Robin or Kyle well, but they were good people,”

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked and Stiles stood once again, his grip on his machete tight.

Stiles said nothing as he pulled out his smaller knife and plunged it into Kyle’s zombified head, then Robin’s, David’s then finally Samuel’s. What happened to them was cruel, and they were left out as a warning, or a taunt to their loved ones. Stiles had enough. He walked slowly around the area, eyes roaming over every single one of the zombies that used to be people he saw _alive_, and he killed them, put them to rest. None of them deserved the fate of forever guarding a camp, none of them deserved to be undead until they decomposed so much that there was nothing left for the virus to take hold of. None of them deserved what happened.

“What now?” Peter asked and Stiles looked at him, eyes blank and lifeless as if the apocalypse had taken everything from him, _and it just about had_. Peter could see just in Stiles’ expression that he felt like he had nothing left to loose, but that wasn’t right. “There are other from your group, right? Fight for them, Stiles,” Stiles looked down to the ground and then back at Peter.

“We’re going over the wall,” Stiles stated and Peter nodded in agreement, “I need to know who did this, and I need to find the rest of my friend. Now, they could be inside, but they could’ve left, so we need to get in,” Peter smirked,

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Peter said and Stiles rolled his eyes.

With a grip like iron on his machete, Stiles made his way over to the wall separating the outside world from the camp. He sheathed his machete and began to climb the wall. Peter followed suit. Stiles’ head rose over the wall so he could see the other side, and the state of the camp was horrible. Smoke rose from a dissipated fire that had burnt part of the camp, zombies of former residents roamed the area and dead bodies were strewn about the camp. It was devastating. What once was a camp full of life, full of children and the elderly, men and women who all had a place and lived peacefully, turned into just another part of the wreckage that enslaved the Earth.

“Oh my God…” Stiles muttered, “I shouldn’t have left. Fuck! I shouldn’t have left!” Stiles growled to himself.

“If you hadn’t, you probably would be one of the dead,” Peter reasoned as he sat himself on top of the wall with Stiles, “don’t blame yourself, I know how much that can ruin you,”

“There’s nothing to ruin that isn’t already destroyed, Peter,” Stiles said in almost a whisper. Peter actually felt bad for Stiles, the younger man’s voice conveying his mental state. Peter could, in a way, sympathise with Stiles. The two were more similar than either of them ever realised.

“So what now?” Peter asked, Stiles giving him a look of pure devastation.

“I don’t know…I don’t know if my friends are in there, or if they’re dead somewhere outside, or even if they’re alive. I don’t know what I can do right here, right now, in order to fix things because _I can’t!_” Stiles exclaimed, his voice breaking at the words, “my friends are dead, the ones out there. They were some of the best people I’ve _ever _met, and they’re dead, so I’ll tell you what I want to do; I want to find who did this and rip their fucking skin from their bodies, I want to make them suffer and pay for what they’ve done, because I don’t know if you noticed, but my friends out there didn’t die quickly, hell Robin had her arms fucking _cut off_ before she probably bled to death!” Stiles breathed deeply and quickly with a mixture of rage and despair, a mix of emotions Peter knew all too well.

“I think you and I need to find somewhere to lay low for a while, take a breather,” Peter suggested.

“But my friends…” Stiles trailed off and Peter shook his head,

“You need rest, Stiles, you’re exhausted and stressed. The rest of your friends may still be alive, so you need to be feeling good enough to find them,” Peter explained and Stiles muttered something unintelligible. Without saying anything else, Stiles climbed down from the wall, Peter following.

“So where do we go?” Stiles asked.

“Just follow me, Stiles, it’ll be okay,” Peter said, his head aimed high in a gesture Stiles knew meant he was sniffing the air, having caught a scent of some sort.

“What is it? What have you caught?” Stiles demanded,

“A small group of people got away. The scent is fading, but if we’re quick, we can catch up to them. I think it might be your friends, the scent was all over you when you first came to me,” Stiles’ eyes widened.

“Then we need to go! Which way?” Stiles stepped forward and Peter pointed in a direction.

“You follow me, I’ll lead the way,” Peter stated and so Stiles did.

* * *

They came upon a wooden cabin hidden deep in the woods by a lake. It was a peaceful spot, and Stiles almost thought he could almost lose himself in the scenery, forget about the way the world was. _Almost_. The air was musty with rain, humidity creeping in, and the sounds of frogs by the lake made the area seem full. Stiles took a deep breath, taking in the smell of air untainted by blood, smoke and rotten flesh. The air was fresher there.

There was rustling from the trees surrounding the cabin, and Peter’s eyes glowed blue, but no claws came out. Stiles put his hand on his holster but otherwise did not go on the defensive. If the people there were really Stiles’ friends, he didn’t want to scare them before they could get a good look at him.

“Put your weapons down!” A muffled voice yelled at them, “Now!”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles complied and unclipped his holster from his belt, placed it on the ground and added his knives to the pile, while Peter put his own weapons on the ground, “I’m looking for my friends, I just want to know if they’re okay!” Stiles called back to whoever yelled at them.

“Stiles?” The voice was clearer now, and Stiles recognised it immediately. A grin broke out on his face and he turned towards the trees where a woman stepped out, her dark auburn hair burning even more ginger in the sunlight.

“Carson!” Stiles engulfed her in a hug and Peter let his eyes return to their human blue.

“We didn’t know where you were, we were going to come looking for you!” Carson returned, her smile genuine but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes betrayed her worry and sadness, not for Stiles, but likely for David who she did not yet know the fate of, and Stiles didn’t want to keep that to himself for much longer or the guilt would eat him alive.

“Can we come inside?” Stiles asked, picking up his weapons as Peter did the same,

“Sure…who’s he?” Carson jerked a thumb towards Peter.

“This is Peter Hale, he’s another friend from my hometown. He’s good - well, that’s relative - but he’s on our side at least,” Stiles explained and Carson nodded warily before leading the two men inside the house.

Instantly, Stiles was swarmed with everyone looking for answers and asking whether or not he’d seen the others. Stiles just wanted to know what had happened, but he also needed to tell them what he’d seen. It wouldn’t go down well, he knew that, their group had become something like a family, and finding out half of them were dead was going to break them.

“Have you seen my dad?” Tyler asked, coming into the front room clinging to Julia’s side.

“Hailey?” Henry asked, his tone hopeful but also realistic. Stiles’ heart broke for the both of them especially.

“Julia, would you mind taking Tyler out of the room for a few minutes okay?” Stiles asked softly and Julia nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. She’d lost enough in her life to know what those sorts of things meant. Once Julia and Tyler were clear, Stiles looked over the group.

“This…this isn’t going to be easy…” he trailed off as he wiped away a tear threatening to fall from his eye, “I know you want answers from me as to why I left, for now I can’t give them to you, but I’ve got to tell you all something which you won’t want to hear, but you have to. After I found Peter, I was on my way to bring him back to camp, but as we got closer we saw smoke in the air from camp, and figures standing out the front of the wall. As we got closer we realised they were zombies, and that…that I recognised almost all of them,” Stiles looked to the ground for a second, only a second, and when he looked back up at the group, almost all of them had variations of shocked and sad expressions on their faces. They knew what Stiles was about to say, “Look, I don’t know what happened at camp while I was gone, but when I got back…I saw David, Hailey, Samuel, Robin and Kyle all out the front of the wall…they were - fuck! - they were all dead,” Stiles shook his head quickly and sat down where he could.

“No…” Carson trailed off, her hands over her mouth as she cried silently into them. Tanvi was right next to her, hand on her shoulder.

“All of them?” Henry asked in such a small voice coming from the man, “my little girl?” At those words, his voice broke and Stiles did too.

“What’s going to happen to Tyler?” Josh asked.

“We’ll take care of him. All of us,” Stiles said, “I know what it’s like, losing a parent. I can’t imagine losing both, but I have a feeling some of us here know what that’s like. We’ll help him,”

Stiles went silent and let the group deal with the news. Carson and Tanvi sat down on a couch together as Carson cried into Tanvi’s shoulder. Stiles supposed the two had grown close. Emma and Josh both stood, but Josh had silent tears rolling down his cheeks while Emma seemed almost in shock. Henry had broken down in the middle of the room, none of the others dared to touch him except Chris, who had a hand on his back as the military man broke down in tears.

“Someone tell me what happened,” Stiles said softly after a few moments.

“Let’s go someone a little more private,” Chris prompted and Stiles stood to follow him. The two walked to a bedroom in the cabin, where they stood at the foot of the bed.

“How’d it go down?” Stiles asked and Chris sighed.

“I’ll have to start from when you left. Sarge was antsy, he was trying to make sure he had loyalists on his side, including me. He confronted Sasha, who was controlling the whole camp behind his back,”

“I’m aware of that,” Stiles stated and Chris nodded to continue.

“Sarge hated it when he found out, and took control. He made a public display of knocking Sasha down to take her in. She’s a kitsune you know?” Chris explained and Stiles raised an eyebrow, “In only a few days, he took control of the camp. People were being overworked and those that stood against him were being taken away to get beaten or killed. They were taken to the storehouse, and after a few hours the screams stopped, so we assumed they were killed. When we tried to escape, Sarge caught us on the other side of the wall and started shooting. We tried grabbing who we could, but we had to run. We found out once we were safe that some had been left behind. We couldn’t go back,”

“Do you know what happened after? Where Sarge is?” Stiles asked and Chris shook his head,

“We’ve been here ever since,”

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed, “I shouldn’t have left,”

“While it’s true we could’ve used you, none of what happened is your fault,” Chris sighed.

“How is everyone?” Stiles asked and Chris gave off an exasperated expression,

“I think you should ask Tanvi, there seems to be an issue with Carson,” and with that, Chris left the bedroom. Stiles made his way into the living room and took Tanvi aside.

“Chris said something was happening with Carson?” Stiles asked and Tanvi grimaced, taking him by the hand and leading him to the back porch where they could watch over the lake as they talked.

“How much do you know about her and David?” Tanvi looked Stiles in the eyes and he shrugged.

“Not much,”

“They were together,” Tanvi sighed, “and they got physical,” Stiles shook his head slightly with an ‘oh’ slipping from his lips, “she thinks she’s pregnant,”

“Shit,” Stiles muttered and Tanvi nodded in agreement, “how does she know?”

“She’s getting sick, and she says she’s late,” Tanvi shrugged, “she also mentioned that ‘bag of crap that Stiles grabbed from the pharmacy’ last night?” Tanvi enquired and Stiles frowned, remembering what she was referring to.

“We went on a run to a pharmacy on like day two, and I made sure to grab pregnancy tests and…and some abortion pills,” Stiles told Tanvi, and the other woman took in a shuddering breath.

“Oh,” was all Tanvi could say.

“It’s her choice, really,” Stiles sighed, “but before she does anything, we should be somewhere safe, somewhere stable,”

“Like that’s anywhere these days!” Tanvi raised an eyebrow, “where the fuck are we going to find somewhere like that?”

“If Scott’s still alive, then Beacon Hills will be safe. We’re going to my home,” Stiles stated.

“And what about Sarge?” Tanvi asked.

“We need to deal with him, but we can’t. Not yet. We don’t have the numbers, we have children here and Carson - one of our strongest - is possibly pregnant. Plus, we don’t know where Sarge even is at the moment. We need to regroup, and I say we do that in Beacon Hills,” Stiles explained and Tanvi sighed.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“I’m certain,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening, guys! What I've been building up to this entire fic! We're going to Beacon Hills!


	18. Home isn't Home Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beacon Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a happier chapter this time!

Stiles felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. For months he’d wanted to get back to Beacon Hills, for months he did some of the worst things he’d ever done just for survival for him and his group, and in the end his own mistakes cost him his friends. He’d gathered everyone and they packed what little they had to set off on the road. The mood was somber when they realised that there were so little of them left that they could fit into one minivan, albeit a little squished due to more people than seats, instead of multiple cars.

They drove non-stop for just over a day, but when they approached Beacon Hills, they found something that they didn’t expect. Walls. Stiles pulled the van up outside the walls right next to a large gate and the group got out. Stiles exchanged a glance with both Chris and Peter, who both held as confused expressions as Stiles.

“They’ve walled it off, I can hear children inside,” Peter muttered with disbelief.

“Do we just hop the fence, or knock?” Carson asked with a raised eyebrow and Stiles shrugged. He approached the gate but when it opened suddenly, he had his gun up in an instant. A man with a rifle stepped out along with a woman holding a shotgun. They aimed their weapons at Stiles, but Stiles didn’t put his gun down.

“Put the gun down, asshole or you’re getting a bullet to the face,” The woman spat. Stiles gritted his teeth and his trigger finger twitched. He looked back at his group, and with a subtle nod from Chris, Stiles sighed and put his gun back in his holster.

“You guys lost?” The man asked in a mocking tone, “I can point you back to the cemetery, you all look like you came from there,”

“Who’s in charge?” Stiles asked and the woman scoffed.

“That’s none of your business,” she shook her head and walked forward, placing the barrel of her shotgun directly over Stiles’ heart, “now you and your friends better leave,” Stiles saw Tanvi step forward, ready to strike, but he shook his head, telling her to stand down.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone, I just want to know if my friends are alive. I’m from here,” Stiles told her and her eyes twitched.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” She asked, baring her teeth like a wolf - and Stiles supposed she might be.

“Noah Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Derek Hale, if any of them are alive, they’ll tell you exactly who I am,” Stiles told her and she faltered, lowering her shotgun.

“We’ll see,” she gave a nod to the man next to her and she went back inside the walls, the gate closing behind her while the man stayed to watch their group.

“Are you sure you want us here?” Carson asked in a hushed whisper to Stiles,

“_You_ need to be here, I’m here for my friends, my dad,” Stiles told her and she sighed.

“I didn’t know they had walls up,” Chris said, he and Peter going up to Stiles to watch past the gate, “they’ve made something here, civilisation,”

“_If_ we stay,” Peter drawled, “we’re not exactly going to fit back into civilisation, even if some of the pack are still here,” Stiles nodded.

“I know,” Stiles sighed.

The gate opened again and the woman stepped out, this time accompanied by a man that looked a lot older since the last time Stiles saw him, more lines around his face, his eyes seemed more haunted and tired, but Stiles would never forget them.

“Stiles?” He stopped dead in his tracks and his face just melted in relief and such pure happiness that anyone could see. Stiles’ smile was large and bright and he walked up to his crying father to hug him as tightly as he could.

Even Stiles had changed since Noah had last seen him. Stiles’ eyes were darker and somewhat empty, his face had matured significantly, though he supposed the - admittedly patchy, but long enough nobody noticed too much - beard had something to do with it. Stiles seemed more man than boy and Noah felt like he missed something in his son’s life.

“Dad…” Stiles’ voice was muffled as he head was buried in his father’s shoulder. Both men cried, and neither of them felt shame in doing so, “how…how long has it been?” Stiles asked, more for his own benefit. He’d counted months, but his time on the road may have been longer than he though.

“Just around a year, son,” Noah sighed and both men pulled back from the hug. Noah looked back at the group behind Stiles, his eyes lighting up at the sight of both Chris and Peter, “would never have thought I’d be happy to see you two again,” he laughed and so did the other two men.

Snarling from behind the group made them still and Stiles pulled his knife from his hip. The woman immediately aimed her shotgun at Stiles, but he raised his gun in his hand and silently gestured towards the approaching group of zombies. The woman grunted but nodded and Stiles went to deal with them, pushing Carson behind his father.

Noah watched with fascination as Stiles and three of his friends took down a group of seven zombies. Stiles was fast and deadly, his strikes with his knife hitting the head almost immediately, while the others were a little slower, they made a good team. Within a minutes, all seven zombies were down, and Stiles returned to his father’s side covered in black blood.

“How long have you all been on the road?” Noah asked Stiles hesitantly.

“Since the beginning,” Stiles sighed, “can we…can we come inside the walls?” Noah nodded and gestured for the man and woman to open the gate.

Once they were inside the walls, Stiles could really see what this new way of living looked like. They had sectioned off a part of Beacon Hills. People were going in and out of houses, children were playing with balls in the streets, there were plots for farm land and a section for solar panels of all different sizes. It looked like something they’d been hoping for their entire time out on the road.

“Whoa…” Carson voiced his thoughts and Stiles managed a laugh.

“We’ve managed to section off a third of Beacon Hills, and we’re working on expanding,” Noah said proudly, “it’s been a struggle, but it’s been worth it in the end. Almost all of our residents never used to live here,”

“What about…” Stiles trailed off and frowned but Noah smiled.

“I can take you to them just after we get your friends settled in,” Noah gestured to man and the woman, “Rhea and Damien will take them to some empty houses, Chris your old house is still around and empty if you’d like, and Peter, we haven’t managed to reclaim your apartment yet, it’s still part of the area outside the walls, but if you want you can stay with Derek at the loft,”

“Brilliant…” Peter rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Peter will do that,” Stiles said and Peter grimaced as Stiles smirked.

“Alright, Rhea, Damien?” Noah said.

“Follow me!” Rhea exclaimed, going to walk in one direction. Stiles’ group separated from him and his father to follow Rhea and Damien.

“She’s…something,” Stiles muttered and Noah laughed.

“She’s a bit of a hard-ass, but she’s an important part of our community,” Noah shrugged, “Scott might be at the library,” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why would Scott be at the library?”

“We use it as sort of a ‘community centre’ and Scott, well, Scott stepped up and he’s helping lead the people while I run all the rest,” Noah shrugged and Stiles’ eyes widened.

“_You_ run the town?” Stiles stopped in his tracks and Noah laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you more about it soon, son,” Noah clapped Stiles on the shoulder and they continued walking towards the town centre where the library was.

When they entered the library, Stiles stepped back in shock as children ran past him and his father. Stiles stood frozen, eyes glazed over as he looked around the library where children were playing, groups were being _taught_ by and older woman, a teacher, and teenagers and adults were checking out books like the world _hadn’t_ gone to shit. His father’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts and Stiles shook himself off.

“It’s going to take a while to get used to…this,” he muttered and Noah nodded in understanding.

“Most of these people, most of the children have been here since the early days, people that came from Los Angeles or even further out and ended up in the same place we did. Originally we were all hiding out in the mall, but Derek, Malia and Liam - initially - began clearing out the town. Most of Beacon Hills’ original residents had left, so there wasn’t much in the way of the undead here, especially not this far out from major cities. After Liam died, Derek and Malia, along with a bunch of men from our group, began to put up the walls using whatever we could find. It took weeks, but we managed to wall off a small portion of the town. Since then, we’ve been slowly expanding,” Noah explained, “most of the people here haven’t had to go through what you have,”

“Yeah…” Stiles nodded, “uh, Scott?” He cleared his throat and Noah nodded, gesturing up the stairs in the main hall of the library.

Noah led Stiles up the stairs to where what looked like a meeting was taking place. Scott was standing in front of a window, addressing a group of adults who were sitting on chairs in front of him. Scott looked just about the same as he did before, but he also looked happy, which Stiles didn’t quite understand. When Scott caught sight of Stiles, he stopped talking and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. Scott gestured for someone else to take over the meeting and he practically ran over to Stiles and Noah.

“Oh my God…” Scott muttered over and over again as he engulfed Stiles in a bear hug. Stiles hugged him back and, once again, couldn’t stop the tears that fell.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles smiled.

“Scott, why don’t you show Stiles around, I’ve got to get back to the station,” Noah said and Scott nodded, pulling back from Stiles.

“Come on, there’s a lot to see,” Scott smiled and grabbed Stiles by the arm to pull him down the stairs.

Once they got outside the library, Scott put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and they casually strolled around the edges of the walls. Stiles was watching everything intently, he caught the eyes of several residents who stared at him with expressions of discomfort and wariness. Stiles’ hearing was drawn to the sounds of groaning from outside the walls as a few zombies registered Stiles and Scott being so close. Stiles had his hand on his holster almost immediately, but Scott shook his head and gently pulled his hand off his holster.

“Sorry,” Stiles grimaced and Scott shrugged.

“It’s okay,” Scott smiled kindly and Stiles felt uncomfortable. All of this felt too _normal_ for what he was used to, almost like the people within the walls didn’t know the reality of the outside.

“My dad told me you really stepped up,” Stiles prompted and Scott grinned.

“Yeah, while your dad is working on the business - I guess - side of things, I’m helping the people. It’s not just me though, It’s more a team effort and there’s a few people that really take charge. We’re, I suppose, community leaders,” Scott shrugged and Stiles smiled sadly, shaking his head slightly, “what?”

“You’re still you, Scotty, you’re still you,” the words coming from Stiles felt almost desperate, as if he couldn’t quite believe it but was relieved at the same time as he was mourning. Scott couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Why do you sound so…sad when you say that?” Scott questioned and Stiles frowned.

“You’re still you, but I’m not,” Stiles stated and Scott suddenly understood. Stiles had been through a lot, and until that moment he didn’t quite register _just _how bad it could have been outside the walls. The scars on Stiles’ face, neck and arms weren’t there before, but Scott didn’t even stop to think about what they couldn’t been from.

“I-i’m sorry,” Scott stuttered and Stiles shook his head.

“No, it’s alright. You guys have been behind walls almost the whole time, It’s been a different kind of hard to build this place,” Stiles shrugged, gesturing openly to the town, “Out there, we’re always fighting. Not just against the undead, it’s more the people that are the threats. Out there, we’re barely worrying about the dead, instead we’re fighting against assholes that try to kill us…” he trailed off and Scott saw the sorrowful expression on his face, “and they have…they’ve killed us. Some of us literally - we haven’t got the numbers we used to - and some of us mentally. We’re not the same, not even Tyler the _thirteen year old kid_ who lost his mother months ago in the first few days, and just lost his dad like a day ago,” Stiles grunted in anger that was welling up inside and shook his head violently as he aimed his clenched fist for the wall. Stiles didn’t hit it, but he very nearly did.

“I don’t know what to…what to say,” Scott frowned and Stiles sighed, unclenching his fist.

“There’s nothing you _can_ say, Scott. You guys haven’t had to brave it out there like we have,” Stiles said relatively quietly, “I don’t appreciate being stared at by everyone either, just because I look like the mountain man,” Stiles growled, his eyes glancing at a mother who was staring at Stiles from the porch of her house as she ushered her children inside hurriedly.

“We’ll have to work on that,” Scott sighed.

“Yeah,” Stiles spat and subconsciously rubbed his thumb over the scar on his cheek as he thought, “you guys have power here, right?” He asked, changing the subject so abruptly that Scott had to snort a laugh. Stiles may have changed, but some things would never change about him.

“Yeah, the solar panels. Some houses had them on their roofs, and we gathered a few from outside the walls. We’ve rigged them up to power most of the town, but we still tell people to conserve as much power as possible,” Scott shrugged, gesturing to the field of solar panels, “we’ve also got water tanks and the station runs on a generator,” Scott continued explaining to Stiles about how they had power and water.

“Do you guys have food?” Stiles asked, cutting in.

“Of course!” Scott grinned, “we’ve got the farm plots, and then we gather as much food as we can from the outside. We’re pretty good on food right now,” Stiles nodded.

“That’s good, that’s really good,” Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, “how about doctors? Do you have doctors?” Scott furrowed his eyebrows but nodded.

“Yeah,”

“Great. One of our group, Carson, she’s pregnant. She’ll need doctors,” Stiles sighed, “and just in case I have some abortion pills…” He frowned and Scott mirrored it.

“Oh…who’s the…” Scott trailed off but Stiles gathered what he was talking about.

“Not me,” Stiles stated and Scott laughed nervously.

“Yeah, okay, sorry,” He grimaced and Stiles rolled his eyes. The two stopped walking when they came upon the police station, “Malia should be inside, Lydia too, do you want to see them?” Stiles gave Scott a face of disbelief.

“_Do I want to see them?_ What kind of stupid question is that, Scott,” Stiles rolled his eyes and moved to enter the station.

As soon as he entered, Stiles was overwhelmed. The sounds of people talking and laughing caught his attention immediately. There was even a baby crying and Stiles felt like he needed to sit down. The beginnings of a panic attack crept in and Stiles had to put his hand on the wall beside him to brace himself. Scott immediately noticed and helped Stiles out the door.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked once they were safely outside. Stiles nodded weakly.

“I can’t…it’s all too _normal_, Scott, too much like before,” Stiles told him and Scott understood.

“I’m going to get Malia and Lydia to come out if that’s okay?” Scott asked and Stiles nodded. Scott disappeared into the building, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts. When Scott returned, he was trailed by Malia who was solely engrossed in a child that looked barely a year old in her arms, and Lydia who was writing something in a notebook.

“Why’d you drag us out here and away from work?” Lydia asked, finally looking up to see Stiles as he stood up. She promptly dropped her notebook and pen and held her hands over her mouth as silent tears fell. Malia also looked up, but instead of reacting the way Lydia did, she simply widened her eyes in shock and handed the baby to Scott.

“Stiles!” Lydia squealed and ran up to Stiles, hugging him. Stiles hugged her back and took in her sweet scent that hadn’t been tainted by the undead. When Lydia pulled away, Malia butted in and hugged Stiles, though not as tightly, but still as meaningful.

“Oh my God, you’re okay,” Malia muttered as she pulled back and Stiles laughed slightly as the baby started crying in Scott’s arms.

“Mal?” Scott asked desperately and Malia rolled her eyes, going over to take the baby from Scott’s arms, the baby immediately quieting in her arms. It was then that Stiles noticed the baby’s caramel skin, wide brown eyes and the tuff of dark brown hair on its head.

“You…” Stiles’ eyes widened and he pointed between Malia and Scott. The baby’s resemblance to Scott was uncanny and the way it quieted immediately in Malia’s arms was something only a mother could do.

“Yeah…” Scott laughed nervously and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“Her name’s Allison,” Malia said quietly and Stiles instantly felt his heart both break and swell with pride. It was a weird feeling.

“She’s beautiful,” Stiles smiled to Scott and he grinned back.

“You need to shave,” said Lydia, cutting through the conversation about baby Allison. Stiles could only bark a laugh and shake his head.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me,” Stiles walked over to Lydia and she raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, literally,” she smirked and Stiles laughed, “come here,” She said softly and she put her hands on Stiles’ cheeks as she pulled him in to kiss her. Stiles could only melt with the gesture, and he kissed back, putting his arms around her to pull her closer.

Scott and Malia watched the exchange with a smile. Their pack - their family - was back together, albeit without some key members and that would forever make Scott sad, but Stiles was back and it was they best thing to happen to them since Allison was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Stiles sees Derek again
> 
> If you guys (who've seen The Walking Dead) can't tell, I'm taking a lot of inspiration from TWD, such as Jason's unfortunate end, and even Sarge and his camp were inspired by The Governor and Negan respectively, but Beacon Hills is acting as sort of an Alexandria figure now, and for the foreseeable future, Beacon Hills will be the main setting for the fic.


	19. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes

Lydia helps him and the change is immediate. His beard is trimmed, and his hair is shorter, making him look younger than he had been. He took a shower, washing the dirt and grime from a year of fighting for his life, and the dried up blood that found its way underneath his fingernails and in his hair. Lydia is gentle but works slowly but surely, and soon Stiles looks more like he used to do, but it didn’t mean he felt like it.

As he stared into Lydia’s mirror, her smiling face behind him, he felt uneasy. His shorter beard made his scars look more obvious and in a way he looked harsher than he had been, but he also looked younger. He watched his face in the mirror unsure of himself, as the man that stared back at him was the Stiles that died when Alice did, and Stiles didn’t even know if that was a good thing. Lydia seemed to think so, as she turned him around in his seat to face her. She clearly saw the unease on Stiles’ face and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly.

“I just…” Stiles trailed off with a grunt, unsure of how to word what he was feeling, “I just don’t know if he’s _me_ anymore,” he gestured wildly at the mirror.

“What do you mean?” Lydia furrowed her eyebrows and Stiles sighed.

“The Stiles you lost…I’m not him, not anymore,” Stiles said, standing from the chair so he was standing above Lydia.

“Fine, I’m not the Lydia you left,” Lydia shrugged, “a haircut doesn’t mean anything about who you are, Stiles, it just means you look a little cleaner so the rest of the residents will accept you and your friends easier. No amount of trauma can change who you are fundamentally. You’re still _Stiles_, just a little rougher around the edges,” Stiles looked at her with soft eyes and shook his head.

“I don’t even _feel_ like Stiles right now, Lyds…I’ll get used to it,” He leant down and gave her a quick kiss before pulling away, “I’m going to go find Scott,” Lydia pursed her lips but nodded.

Stiles left Lydia’s house and walked out into the street. The stares didn’t stop, but Stiles didn’t let them affect him. He spotted Carson over by the infirmary, holding a small white stick in her hand with the other sitting protectively over her stomach. She knew for sure now, she was pregnant. Tanvi was arguing with Rhea over by the wall, and Stiles guessed that she was trying to get on watch duty. He didn’t see anyone else from his group, though, so he assumed they were staying inside somewhere.

Stiles found Scott outside his mothers grave. It was a small plot dedicated to the fallen as the Beacon Hills cemetery was situated outside the walls. The plot sat behind the town square, and on the edge of a small section of the preserve that was walled off. There were five graves in total, and Stiles recognised the names on all of them. Melissa, Liam, Mason, Hayden and Corey. Stiles had only really known about Melissa and Liam’s deaths, but by the absences of the other three, Stiles figured they were dead, or not in Beacon Hills. Unfortunately it was the former.

“Hey,” Stiles drew Scott’s attention and the Alpha turned slowly to face him, “how are you doing with…all of this?” Stiles gestured to the graves.

“I’ll admit, not very well,” Scott sighed and shook his head, looking down at his mother’s grave. “I never really thought too much about how easy it was to die in the beginning,”

“Yeah…” Stiles nodded, “I didn’t have time to think like that,” Scott frowned but said nothing, “how did they all happen, if you’re okay with me asking?” Stiles asked and Scott took in a shaky breath.

“Liam was first…he and Derek were out on a run, I never went in the beginning, I didn’t have the stomach for it…” Scott trailed off, “when they came back, Liam was bit and he told us not to do anything because he might’ve healed,”

“He didn’t,” Stiles said and Scott nodded,

“It hit him faster, the fever was severe and his body was trying to fight it off but he lost, and he died…Chris was there, and he finished it before he could turn…” Scott explained with watery eyes as he stared at Liam’s grave, “Then it was my mom…we’d gathered a few new people by that point, but one of them was already bitten and too far gone. We isolated him, and my mom was trying to treat him to make his last few hours as good as they could be, but when she visited him the last time, he had turned and he bit her,” Scott shook his head.

“Let me guess, Chris again?” Stiles raised an eyebrow and Scott nodded.

“He was the only one of us who was willing to do it, then he left,” Scott took in a deep breath and Stiles felt the weight of the words that Scott had uttered, “Corey didn’t even turn, he was caught in a herd and they ripped him apart. We found what was left of him the next day,” Stiles didn’t want to picture that, and how horrifying it would have looked, “Then it was Mason. He and Malia had gone out and he’d gotten bit. According to Malia, he asked her to end it before he’d have to go through the fever. She did,”

“You’ve all lost a lot,” Stiles said and Scott nodded, “I’m sorry,”

“Thank you,” Scott smiled sadly, “you’re looking better. Less scruffy, more you,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“That’s what Lydia says but I’m not feeling it,” Stiles sighed, “I don’t even really know who I am or where I fit now, there’s a lot that happened that you don’t know about,”

“Then tell me,” Scott shrugged and Stiles narrowed his eyes, “if you want, I mean,”

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you what happened to me, but before then there’s a threat I need to inform you of,” Stiles stated and Scott frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Can we talk somewhere private with just you and my dad?” Stiles asked and Scott nodded.

“Let’s go to the station,”

* * *

When they arrived at the station, there was barely anyone inside, but the man speaking to Noah Stilinski was not someone Stiles expected to see again, at least not that soon. Derek’s head snapped up towards the entrance as Stiles and Scott entered, and Noah stopped talking. Stiles looked between Noah and Derek, stopping dead in his tracks before shaking himself off and walking forward.

“Stiles…” Derek greeted awkwardly, trailing off. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Derek,” Stiles smiled tightly and Derek gave him a nod of acknowledgement, “how’s Peter treating you?” He smirked and Derek glowered.

“He’s an asshole that I wish had stayed at that prison he keeps talking about. He seemed to be doing fine on his own,” Derek said and Stiles snickered.

“You’re not happy to have your family back?” Scott asked, surprised.

“I have Cora, who I see every now and then, I don’t need Peter. I _killed_ him, remember?” Derek grunted and Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“Cora’s alive?” He asked and Derek nodded.

“She’s living in a settlement near the border, so it’s not too far to visit,” Derek explained and Stiles smiled lightly.

“That’s good. She’s tough as nails, so if anyone could outlive us all, it would be her,” Stiles chuckled and Derek cracked a smile.

“Stiles came to tell us about a threat?” Scott said, taking the conversation back to why they were there. Noah’s eyebrows furrowed and he ushered Scott, Stiles and Derek into his office away from the ears of the very few people milling about the station. As he shut his door, Stiles got to talking.

“There’s this guy who calls himself Sarge. He ran a camp near Oklahoma which seemed to run pretty smoothly, except it was actually being run from behind the scenes by this woman named Sasha. She was running the show, manipulating everyone into thinking Sarge was the leader while she really had the reins,” Stiles started explaining, “When my group arrived, it was pretty good, except I didn’t trust them one bit. I made a mistake one night, and I left, which is how I found Peter, but when we returned…Sarge had killed most of his people and…and some of mine, left a group of them chained outside the walls as zombies and trashed the inside. Nobody was left alive, and everyone inside was either dead on the ground or a corpse walking around,”

“Was this Sarge one of them?” Noah asked and Stiles shook his head,

“I don’t think so, there were too many inside that I couldn’t check, but I’m certain he got away. I don’t know where he is, I don’t know if he’s still in Oklahoma, or if he’s moved on, but one things for certain, he needs to go down,” Stiles said and Scott looked uneasy, “he’s a threat, not just to my group, but to everyone here. If he ends up coming here, because he might, I think he’d do the same to the people here, and to Beacon Hills. We don’t want that, _I _don’t want that,”

“Neither do we, but does he really have to die?” Scott asked and Stiles gave him the most intense look he could muster. It seemed to work because Scott averted his eyes.

"You didn’t see it, Scott. He slaughtered my people, let them turn and chained them out the front to taunt me. You didn’t see the wounds my people had, some of them died _slowly_. One of the people he killed was the father of Carson’s baby and my roommate from college, along with a teenage girl. He’s a monster if ever I’ve seen one,” Stiles explained and Scott grimaced.

“I don’t like it, but…it’s not my call,” Scott looked to Noah, who sighed.

“Stiles takes point on this one, he knows the most about this guy and he’s got a grudge, that sit well with you two?” Noah looked between Scott and Derek who both nodded, albeit hesitantly from Scott.

“We need to be prepared, which means teaching some of your people how to actually handle a weapon,” Stiles said and Noah pursed his lips in worry, “We need to be prepared,” Stiles repeated as he left the office.

“Anyone else kind of scared of Stiles now?” Derek asked once Stiles had gone. Both Scott and Noah nodded.

“Oh yeah, big time,” Scott muttered and Noah sighed.

“He’s right though, and you know it,” Noah said and Derek nodded in agreement.

“He is, but this information isn’t going to go over well with the town, they’ve never had to deal with this sort of thing before,” Derek stated and he looked to Scott, “you need to be there to soften the blow,”

“Sure,” Scott nodded, “When the time comes, we might need to think of a contingency plan for the people who won’t, or can’t fight. The children, the elderly,” Scott eyed Noah.

“Absolutely,” Noah agreed, “I’m going to go see if Stiles is still around, I haven’t had much time to talk to him yet,”

“Of course,” Derek nodded, “Scott and I will work on some planning,” Noah smiled and left the station, his eyes wandering around the streets as he searched for his son. He found Stiles staring into a small lake on one corner of the town, just within their borders.

“You okay, son?” Noah asked and Stiles flinched but nodded.

“This has to happen, but I don’t want to endanger anyone’s life. I don’t want _anyone else_ to die,” Stiles frowned, “I don’t want anything to happen to little Allison,”

“I know,” Noah sighed, “Scott and Derek are thinking of a contingency plan for those that can’t fight. We’ll have to be prepared, just like you said.” Stiles nodded and turned to his father, a small smile on his face.

“It’s good to be back,” Stiles said and Noah grinned, clapping Stiles on the shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back. How’s things with Lydia? After everything?” Noah asked and Stiles looked back to the lake.

“Surprisingly _normal_. I’m not sure if I can take too much normal, though,” Stiles shrugged, “I’m used to fighting every day, not having to do that on a regular basis…that’s something I’ve been wanting, but I’m not sure I can do,” Stiles told him and Noah nodded in understanding.

“We’ll figure it out, son. You’re here now, and I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” Noah said and Stiles chuckled.


	20. Deviants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm's coming, but first Stiles deals with some personal things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky chapter 20! Thanks for making it this far with me guys!

“How are you doing?” Stiles asked as he stepped onto the porch of one of the houses that had been given to his group. Carson sat on the bench seat on the porch, her eyes roaming over every resident of Beacon Hills that passed. The nervous looks she got were the common thing amongst those that had been behind the walls since almost the beginning, but she needed to know if she was safe. If her baby was safe.

“Okay, considering,” she sighed, “the doctor says the baby’s well, but it’s a good thing I’m here. I wasn’t getting enough to eat out there apparently,”

“How far along are you?” Stiles asked as he sat next to her.

“Doc says about eight weeks,” she pursed her lips.

“Are you okay with…going ahead?” Stiles asked and Carson stilled.

“I don’t know if I want to bring a baby into this world, but I’m not sure if I can just abort it either,” Carson growled slightly, “and it’s not like adoption’s an option anymore,”

“Yeah, I guess…you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?” Stiles said and Carson nodded with an appreciative smile.

“I know,” she looked back over the town and frowned, “we don’t fit in here, Tanvi’s struggled just to get on watch duty because none of them want a gun anywhere near us, Henry’s trying to help out where he can, but they don’t trust him even with a basket of food, Julia and Tyler are doing okay, though, they’ve been put into their version of schooling, Josh and Emma are being put on runs though, I suppose Josh sort of has that kind of face people trust and Emma’s…well, Emma. She’ll get what she wants regardless,” Carson stated with a shrug, “how about you?”

“I don’t fit at all. I suppose I’m too far gone…maybe we were out there too long,” Stiles mused and Carson smiled sadly.

“Any time out there is too long…” she trailed off and Stiles nodded.

“I’m going to see if I can get on a run today,” Stiles told her and she frowned.

“Why?”

“I think…some part of me longs to be out there,” he shrugged and Carson furrowed her eyebrows, “Like you said, anytime out there is too long, we got used to it,”

“Doesn’t mean you should want to go back,” Carson pointed out and Stiles shook his head.

“Sarge is still out there, and we have to be ready, we have to be prepared. I’ve told my dad and Scott that we need to teach some of these people how to fire weapons, or we’re dead,” Stiles explained and Carson looked at him with an expression of confusion.

“Stiles, there are _children_ here!” She exclaimed.

“There were children _there_ as well. You didn’t see it, Carson,” Stiles stared at her pointedly and Carson’s expression went to sadness, “We’ve already lost too much, I’m not losing more people. We’re ending this,”

“For all we know, Sarge is still in Oklahoma,” Carson said and Stiles shrugged.

“Maybe,” was all he said before he stood, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Carson sighed and waved Stiles off as he left her sight.

Stiles walked through the town with his head up. He paid no attention to the people staring at him, but he was acutely aware of everyone that did. He supposed his situational awareness became a lot more honed over the past year. Stiles made his way to the armoury, a place that was manned by several people, each of them taking inventory of each type of weapon. It was the same in the food bank, as food was scarce, they needed to keep track of anything that came through.

“Can I help you?” One woman asked. Stiles vaguely registered that her name was Rachael. She was the only one of the workers in the armoury that didn’t immediately avert their eyes when he looked at them. Stiles supposed she was the braver one.

“I need to check out my gun,” Stiles told her, still not happy about having to hand over his weapon. The only people that got to carry weapons daily were the ones on watch around the wall.

“What for?” Rachael’s posture spoke of defiance and stubbornness. She had slanted her body in a way that could be considered ‘sassy’, her arms crossed, one hand still gripping her inventory clipboard.

“I’m going outside the walls,” Stiles told her with a straight face, “I’d like it if I could get my gun, otherwise I’m out there with just a knife,”

“Derek told me about you,” she said, making Stiles narrow his eyes slightly in surprise, “he told me you’d probably do fine with just a knife from what he’s seen since you got here,”

“Sure, but guns are useful,” Stiles gritted his teeth and Rachael rolled her eyes.

“I can check it out, with half a pack of ammo only. We’re running low. If you happen to find anymore, bring it back, please?” She asked as she wrote down something, likely what was being checked out, who was doing it and when.

“Sure,” Stiles shrugged, “it’s Rachael, right?” Stiles asked and she nodded. He wanted to make sure he knew her name. She wasn’t like the rest of the residents of the town. She wasn’t afraid of him, or his people. Stiles supposed she was stupid for that, but he liked that feeling of normal conversation for a change.

“Rachael Hale,” She smiled and Stiles stopped, his eyes widening.

“Hale?” He asked hesitantly.

“You didn’t know? Damn, Derek really needs to catch you up,” She sighed and shook her head.

“You’re married to…Derek?” Stiles asked and Rachael nodded with a laugh, “never thought he was the type,”

“Hell, neither did I,” she shrugged, “go get your gun, you’ve only got two hours of permitted time outside the walls,” Stiles nodded and went to get his gun, and half a packet of ammo just like Rachael had said.

“Thanks,” Stiles smiled tightly at her before he left the shed that housed the armoury.

He made his way to the gate that was manned by Damien, and a very angry looking Rhea, and he groaned internally before walking up to them. Rhea’s dark hair and eyes that were almost black in the lighting made her seem harsh, and her tanned skin that was mottled by light scars, one particularly noticeable across her nose that matched Stiles’, made her look ever more harsh that Stiles supposed she actually was. Damien on the other hand, with his bright blue eyes, black hair, pale skin and smile that seemed too full of happiness for the apocalypse, grinned when Stiles approached while Rhea glowered.

“What?” Rhea spat and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I’ve checked out my gun, I want to go outside the walls. I was told have two hours?” He asked and Rhea groaned but nodded to Damien to open the gate.

Damien did just that, and Stiles stepped outside, the gate closing behind him. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins, his heart pumping wildly with excitement and Stiles couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his face. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but some part of him, the primal side, ached for the freedom of not being behind walls, that part of him felt a rush of _home_ when he stepped outside.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like it, but he did and there was no stopping it. Some part of Stiles’ mind took a moment to come to grips with the fact that he felt more at home out in the open where anything or anyone could kill him at any moment, than inside walls with a house, his dad and his girlfriend, where there was power and domesticity, and children were children and not soldiers. Stiles had been running for so long, longer than the apocalypse, and he supposed he got used to running.

“Let’s see what you’ve got for me,” Stiles muttered to himself, his grip on his knife in his left hand loosening to a relaxed position.

Stiles moved through the trees like he belonged there. His footsteps were as quiet as any one of the animals that inhabited the forest, each with their own predator to look out for. Stiles had a predator, one that walked like a human, looked mostly like a human but weren’t human. The world belonged to the undead, and Stiles had to get on top of that. He needed to become the predator of the predator, not the prey.

He walked in one direction for longer than he could comprehend. He took down the undead when he saw them, trapping them behind barricades, smashing car doors onto their heads once he’d knocked them off their feet, or driving a knife through the back of their heads before they could turn around to face him. The abandoned towns full of cars, machinery, luggage and the sorts all gave him more than enough tools to use as weapons.

Stiles had found himself at an abandoned and trashed camp, a small group of the undead trapped under a fallen tree. Without paying too much attention to the zombies, Stiles sought through the camp, gathering what he could. He found packets of unopened ready made meals, a pallet half-full with bottled water, a medical kit that had some supplies missing but would still work well enough to go with whatever Beacon Hills had stockpiled, and two handguns with one box of ammo for each. Stiles packed what he could into a backpack he found, and went back on his way.

It started to rain not long after he left the camp, and Stiles stopped in the middle of the road just to stare up at the sky and grin. He let the water wash away the dirt and the blood he’d accumulated over the course of his outing, revelling in the feeling. He soon moved on, though, as a small hoard of the undead made their way out of the tree line. Luckily, the rain did the same for zombies as it did for werewolves, it helped wash away, or at the very least mask his scent. The noise from the downpour was probably confusing them too, allowing Stiles to get away much easier.

When he made it back to Beacon Hills, it was nearly dark and Stiles realised that he’d severely outstayed his two hour allowance outside. Noah and Scott greeted him at the door with stern, and worried, expressions while Lydia stood behind them looking like she’d been crying. When Stiles stepped past the threshold of the walls of Beacon Hills, Lydia pushed past Scott and Noah to engulf Stiles in a hug. Stiles hugged back and sent an apologetic look to his father and best friend.

“Stiles, can we talk for a moment…privately?” Noah asked and Stiles nodded, gently removing himself from Lydia’s arms to follow his father over to the police station near the centre of town.

When they walked inside, the station was empty, save for a single deputy that was still working at a desk. Stiles had to stop for a moment to process just how normal that single activity looked, how much it reinforced the idea in Stiles’ head that he didn’t belong there. That he didn’t belong _anywhere_, really. He wasn’t like them, like any of them. They knew it too, but they didn’t want to say it.

“What’s up, dad?” Stiles asked casually, going to sit on the couch in his father’s office as Noah closed the door.

“Why did you break curfew?” Noah asked and Stiles frowned, his expression slightly confused but also annoyed.

“Is that what it’s called?” Stiles deflected and Noah rolled his eyes.  
“_Stiles_,” He said through gritted teeth and Stiles sighed.

“I lost track of time, sorry,” Stiles shrugged and Noah narrowed his eyes at his son.

“What else is there?” Noah asked softly, going to sit by Stiles, “I can always tell if there’s more to the story, son, you know that,” Stiles nodded.

“In some weird way, I…” he trailed off and shook his head, “nope, not going to do that today,” Stiles stood to his father’s annoyance, “nice chat daddio, but I best be off,” Stiles had his hand on the door handle when Noah stood, the tone of voice he used wasn’t one that Stiles had heard since he was a child.

“_Stiles Stilinski!_ You sit down and talk to me, _right now!_” Noah’s stern expression and the finger he was pointing directly at the couch, got Stiles to sigh in defeat and sit down, “what won’t you tell me?” Noah asked once Stiles was once again comfortable.

“I…” Stiles trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek as he figured out what to say in his head before it came out. It wasn’t a skill he was particularly good at, but he liked to think he could do it when he wanted to, “I like it out there, I feel like I fit there more than I do here,” Stiles admitted and Noah sighed.

“Why don’t you feel like you fit here?” Noah asked, though he knew the answer himself.

“It’s the constant staring from everyone, the fearful looks I get sometimes from the parents especially, they don’t know what it’s like out there so they have a right to be scared, I guess, it just doesn’t make my homecoming feel very, well, welcoming,” Stiles shrugged and Noah sighed.

“I…I can get Scott to talk to the residents, let them know some of the things you’ve had to deal with…though I don’t exactly _know_ any of it,” Noah said pointedly and Stiles shook his head.

“No…right now it might be better that they’re scared,” Stiles frowned and Noah did the same.

“Why?”

“Scared people can do _so much. _A storm’s coming…I can feel it,” Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, “nothing ever stays this _good_ for too long,”


	21. Back to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens in Beacon Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter chapter. Sorry guys for the lack of updates, I've been a bit busy. This chapter is kinda the set up for the final act of this fic. Hope you guys are excited!

_“Don’t make a move, asshole,”_

Stiles’ eyes caught the scared expressions on his friends, his father’s faces, and he felt something in him snap. He felt the cold metal of a gun pressed up against his head and his aching hands inched to just grab it and turn it around on the woman behind him. Her voice was sharp and snappy, she knew what she was doing in Beacon Hills, she knew what she wanted. Stiles felt bad, it had only been two weeks since he and his friends arrived.

His knees were starting to hurt, but he couldn’t think about that, instead he was trying to silently reassure his father, Lydia, Scott, Carson and the others that he was okay, but the problem with being made to kneel in front of everyone while men and women aimed guns at everyone, was that it was hard to convey that he was fine. He most certainly was not.

“You and your friends really thought it was over, didn’t you?” The telltale sound of Sarge’s voice pierced Stiles’ concentration and soon enough, the man was stepping into Stiles’ eyesight. Stiles fought to keep his mouth shut, he would do anything to snark at Sarge, but he knew that would either get him, or any of the others killed in a heartbeat, “Let’s see if we can reach an agreement…” Sarge crouched in front of Stiles, smirk plastered on his face and gun sitting casually in his hand, “you see…you have some…things,” Sarge glanced back towards Lydia and Stiles clenched his teeth hard to stop himself from doing anything rash, “that I want,” he finished.

“Then let’s talk,” Stiles grunted, “nothing needs to happen here,”

“You’re right…nothing needs to happen here, but somehow I doubt that’ll stop either of us…” Sarge got to his feet and shook his head, “I _know_ you, Stiles, maybe not personally, but I know a broken guy when I see one,”

“Your point?” Stiles growled.

“Well…” Sarge tilted his head harshly as if he was thinking of the next big thing, “broken people have a lot to give and not much to lose, except…you’ve got a lot to lose these days I hear,” Sarge grinned and stalked over to Lydia who yelped when he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her over towards Stiles, throwing her down in front of him. She hit the ground with a thud and struggled to sit up. Stiles could see that the gravel strewn about the ground had cut her on the cheek.

“You don’t need to go that far,” Stiles tried to sound fearless, but he was afraid a bit of fear crept into his voice, and Sarge could tell. Like a shark to blood, he took that fear and ran with it.

“Oh, Stiles…when have you ever known me to _not_ go too far?” Sarge grinned, and that was the last thing Stiles saw before everything went black.

* * *

Earlier

* * *

The first sign that something was changing came in the middle of the night. A loud clanging came from the walls, waking up just about the entire town. Noah had woken up only to have Rhea banging on his door. Noah had followed Rhea out to the wall where he climbed up to meet Damien on the watch post. What he saw wasn’t something he thought he’d see again. Beacon Hills had been practically cleared, but something had changed.

Dozens of the undead were loaded into a bus that was pushed up against the walls of the town. Surrounding them was another hoard, just roaming around, attracted to the noise the bus was making. There was even a large pile of deer that had been thrown onto the road outside the gates, which still had a large group of zombies crowding around it, trying to eat whatever they could get.

Stiles climbed up to the watch post, his father’s expression of concern not lost on him, “This is an attack,” Stiles said with a grim expression, “We need to get ready,”

“What?” Noah whipped around to face his son.

“Someone dumped this group here on purpose. I’m going to take a stab at who,” he gave his father a pointed expression and Noah sighed.

“How do we get rid of them?” Noah asked and Stiles frowned.

“I’ll take a group out in the morning. We’ll lead them away, there’s too many of them for us to just kill, so we’ll lead the hoard away while someone opens up the bus so they can follow,” Stiles explained quickly.

“That seems dangerous,” Noah said, concerned.

“It is, which is why I’ll take my people,” Stiles clapped his father on the shoulder before climbing down from the post. Noah looked back to Damien and Rhea to try and get some answers.

“What the hell happened here?” Noah asked, hands on his hips.

“We’re…not sure, sir,” Rhea looked to the ground, Damien doing the same.

“You two were on watch, someone had to have seen something!” Noah exclaimed rather loudly.

“We were…kind of distracted, sir,” Damien tried to hold back a grin, exchanging a glance with Rhea and Noah was able to figure out quickly what had distracted the pair.

“I’m splitting you two up…” Noah rubbed a hand over his face, “Damien, you’re on morning shift with Tara, Rhea, you’ll stay on nights with Harrison as your new partner,”

“Sir!” Damien went to protest but Noah put his hand up to stop him.

“No protesting, no buts, none of that. Do you understand me?” Noah said firmly.

“Yes, sir,” Damien shrunk back behind Rhea.

“Understood,” Rhea nodded.

* * *

Things were quiet after the zombies had been moved. Stiles, true to his word, had gotten a group together to lead them away, eventually putting them on a path east of Beacon Hills. After that, Stiles was keeping a careful watch on the area, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Instead of waiting for something else to happen before they decided to act, Stiles managed to convince Scott and his father that the residents needed to learn how to fight in case something came.

Stiles, Tanvi, Carson, Henry, Chris and Noah all took groups to teach in a rotational schedule each day. Each group was being taught something different, from knife fighting to hand-to-hand combat, Stiles and his group made sure that the residents of Beacon Hills were ready for a fight. The classes didn’t come without some pushback from the residents. Some parents forbade their children from partaking in some of the lessons, even if they were old enough to have been exposed to such things in video games _before_ the apocalypse. Some residents were adamant that nothing bad would happen, and some were simply blaming Stiles and his group for even the _prospect_ that something bad would happen.

Then came the day something _did_ happen.

The sound of a gunshot woke Stiles up from his sleep. It was the first night in weeks that he’d managed to get to sleep when Lydia did, rather than staying up to all hours before he went to rest by her side. Stiles gently but hurriedly woke Lydia up and she slowly sat up. Stiles was about to tell her what happened until another shot sounded. The two exchanged a glance and swiftly got changed.

Stiles loaded his gun and held it at his side, not even bothering with his holster. Lydia grabbed a gun that she’d hidden in the study of her house when the walls went up, and they made their way outside and into the town. When they got to the library where Noah had told everyone to meet in case of an emergency, Stiles’ group were already inside, Peter had brought Derek and Rachel, and Noah had brought Scott and Malia who held baby Allison. Other residents trickled in quickly and soon the whole town was in the library.

“What’s going on?” One woman asked as she held her young daughter close to her.

“Scott…” Stiles looked to Scott and frowned, “Someone needs to see who’s out there,”

“What if it’s nobody, what if there’s just some random guy shooting zombies and we can’t save him?” Scott tried to look on the bright side, and it said something that the bright side of things was pessimistic at that point.

“Even if it is, the shots would bring a hoard of them this way,” Malia said and Stiles was thankful she was a little more reasonable than Scott in dire situations.

“Malia, and anyone with young children all need to keep them safe. Damien, you and a small group of the security detail lead them outside the walls through the back way and get them somewhere away from here, somewhere safe. We’ll send someone to get you if it’s clear here,” Noah stated with authority, everyone nodded and Damien set to work, gathering up a group of five that worked on the security detail to lead the men and women with children out of the library. Once they were gone, Noah looked to Stiles and Stiles took a deep breath.

“Okay, we don’t know what’s happening right now, but we know something is going on, so I need everyone to grab a weapon and to find a position where you can clearly see the gates, but anyone coming through the gates can’t see you. Scott and I will go up the security post to see what’s on the other side of the gates. What happens next will be up to whatever’s on the other side, got it?” Stiles explained, eyes roaming over every resident. The scared looks weren’t lost on him, but he couldn’t dwell on it. There was a small response from the group. Stiles nodded and set everyone to work.

Stiles and Scott left the library and made their way over to the lookout post next to the gates. Scott seemed hesitant and a little afraid but Stiles put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. They got to the top of the post and looked out over the wall. What they saw made Stiles’ blood run cold. A group of heavily armed men and women standing around cars, trucks and RV’s. Scott went to back away but Stiles gripped his wrist firmly to keep him from going.

“Who are you?” Stiles yelled and one woman at the front of the group smirked.

She didn’t answer and Stiles didn’t know why until he saw a man throw a grenade. Stiles pushed Scott off the platform but it was just a little too late. The grenade hit the platform just as Stiles and Scott were moving, and exploded, throwing them off and onto the ground below. Stiles groaned and felt pain all through his body, and he tried to move, only to gasp in pain and collapse again. He saw a large splinter of wood that had lodged itself in his shoulder, among smaller splinters that only grazed him. Stiles groaned but didn’t make a move to pull it out, deciding to leave that to the medics after everything. He looked over to Scott and saw that he was in a better state, only a little grazed and bruised from the grenade, all of which were healing quickly.

Stiles got to his feet slowly and picked his gun up from where it had fallen. He barely had time to look at Scott when the gates burst open, a truck driving through it at speed. The other cars followed and the residents of Beacon Hills started firing. Men and women got out of the vehicles and stated shooting back, and Stiles felt dizzy - he probably had a concussion. Stiles pushed through the pain and way the world spun as best he could and began shooting, even Scott picked up a gun and helped from beside him. Scott pushed Stiles into cover and Stiles turned, his back resting on the wall of the building they were behind. Black spots danced around his vision, and he stayed still for a moment while Scott was shooting as much as he could. Stiles knew Scott wasn’t very good with a gun, and probably wouldn’t hit anything he was aiming for, but the cover was good while he rested.

Everything happened in a blur when Stiles exited cover. He was shooting left and right, reloading when he had to and moved like a machine. Despite his injury and possible concussion, Stiles was doing damage to the enemy, but unfortunately they were doing damage to them. Stiles passed bodies of people he’d met, of teenagers who begged their parents to let them fight, and Stiles fought harder. That was until someone crept up behind him and put a gun to his head. Stiles froze and turned slowly. The woman who seemed to be leading the group smirked from her position behind the gun and jerked it sideways, silently letting Stiles know to walk in that direction. Stiles sighed and dropped his gun, following the woman’s directions.

He noticed most of the shooting had stopped and realised why when he was brought to the town square where most of the surviving residents of Beacon Hills, luckily including his friends and father, were kneeling on the floor while a group of the enemies surrounded them, holding guns to their heads. Stiles was stopped several metres away from everyone else and the woman behind him forced him to his knees. Several other men from the enemy group brought in a few more residents until nobody else came. Everyone that Stiles couldn’t see in the crowd had died in the firefight, and that made him angry.

“Don’t make a move, asshole,” the woman behind him hissed and Stiles braced himself to what was coming.


	22. Take Charge or Face The Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up

Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness. He heard screams, saw smoke and blood, and the image of Sarge’s smirking face would haunt him until Stiles found the right moment to put a bullet in-between Sarge’s eyes. When he finally stayed conscious, he found himself on display in front of what was left of Beacon Hills. Sarge was standing on a porch of a house, gun in his hand and grin on his face. Stiles was on the floor near Sarge’s feet, and he noticed Carson, Henry, Chris, Josh, Emma and Tanvi standing against the wall of the house, six men with guns standing against the railing of the porch like a firing squad.

Stiles’ ears were ringing as he slowly got to his knees. He barely registered that Sarge was speaking to the town as his eyes found his fathers. Noah’s eyes were full of worry and in that moment Stiles saw his age like he never had seen it before. Noah looked old, weary, too old for this world but he was still hanging on and it gave Stiles strength. Stiles searched the crowd for Scott and Lydia, finding Scott near his father but Lydia separated from the group with her own personal guard above her, rifle to her head.

“I won’t be here long,” Sarge’s voice pierced through Stiles’ anger at seeing Lydia in that state, and Stiles glanced up to look his captor in the eye, “I just need a few things from Stiles here,”

“What do you want?” Stiles hissed and Sarge shook his head.

“Don’t speak unless I ask you something,” Sarge growled and Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek trying to hold in a snide remark, “I need cooperation from you, Stiles, can you do that?”  
“Go to hell,” Stiles spat and Sarge sighed, turning on his heel to move towards the firing squad at Stiles’ friends.

“This man here,” Sarge motioned towards Henry, “lost his beautiful daughter recently,” Henry flinched at the mention of Hailey, “she was really something…I don’t like killing kids, I don’t, but you-“ Sarge turned back towards the crowd, “forced my hand. Now, I _really_ don’t like killing kids which is why I’ve so graciously left off those two down there,” Sarge gestured vaguely towards Tyler and Julia.

“You’d be killing a kid if you killed me,” Carson lurched forward only to be pushed back into place by one of Sarge’s men. Sarge turned to her with a curious expression.

“Is that so?” Sarge’s smile made Stiles’ skin crawl and he saw Carson shut her eyes tightly and shudder.

“Leave her alone, asshole!” Stiles growled and Sarge turned on his heel back to face him.

“You see…you’re all talk now, aren’t you?” Sarge swung his handgun around his finger - his finger in the trigger loop - and shook his head, “This place has made you soft,”

“It’s made me more human,” Stiles stated and Sarge barked out a laugh.

“Humanity is so much more than relationships and farming, it’s freedom and violence,” Sarge said and Stiles shrugged.

“I know, which is why I’ve ‘gone soft’ as you say it. I was sick of the violence,” Stiles said and Sarge rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not. I know guys like you, Stiles,” Sarge laughed and looked back over to the firing squad, “I need the leader of this place to agree to a…deal of sorts,” Sarge grinned. Stiles flinched when both his father and Noah stood up, “Perfect…” Sarge trailed off with a gleeful expression.

“You talk to _me_!” Noah exclaimed, forcing Scott to the ground once again, “What’s your deal?”

“Simple, I get some of your resources, compliance from this place _and _Stiles,” Sarge shrugged, facing Noah dead on, “If you don’t agree, or if you don’t have something I ask for, I’ll kill one of these people,” Sarge gestured towards the firing squad.

Noah looked to Stiles and Stiles tried to give him the most hopeful look he could muster, but instead he went with a nod. Noah looked conflicted and chewed the inside of his cheek - something Stiles inherited he realised. Noah ducked his head, whispered a few words to Scott before looking up and giving Sarge a nod of compliance.

“I agree, anything you want, you can take,” Noah gave Stiles a look of ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’ just as Sarge swung the butt of his gun into Stiles’ head, knocking him out cold.

“Great!” Sarge exclaimed, “Let’s get started!”

* * *

Stiles blinked but he was stuck in darkness. He was awake, only barely, and his wrists and hands were bound just as his ankles and feet were. He assumed he was in Sarge’s compound, and he hoped that Beacon Hills had some of the things that Sarge asked for, so that his friends survived. He didn’t know that, though, and could only wonder. He didn’t want to linger on that thought for too long and instead tried his luck at getting out of his restraints. Unfortunately there was no luck, the rope was bound tightly and threaded through already created loops one too many times for Stiles to get out.

There was a flash of light and Stiles’ head snapped up to search for the source. His eyes found two glowing orange orbs and Stiles instinctively knew that he was in the room with a supernatural creature. The glow from the creature’s eyes was so powerful that Stiles could see others around the room. Stiles recognised people from Beacon Hills - but none of his friends - and some from Sarge’s camp. There were others he didn’t recognise and he could only assume he was in Sarge’s prison of sorts.

“You won’t get out,” A familiar, feminine voice called to him, “Sarge has a boy scout doing all these knots,” Stiles could just hear her roll her eyes.

"Who are you?” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows as he registered her voice coming from the direction of the glowing eyes.

“Come on, you forget a kiss like mine that quickly?” Her flirtatious tone was just as familiar as her words and Stiles groaned.

“Sasha,” Stiles sighed, “What supernatural creature are you exactly?”

“Kitsune,” She muttered and Stiles nodded even though he knew she couldn’t see her.

“I knew a kitsune once,” Stiles stated, “No idea if she’s alive though,” He mused and frowned, having not thought too much about Kira or Isaac since everything started.

“That’s not exactly the most pressing issue here, is it?” Sasha grunted.

“Who is everyone?” Stiles asked and Sasha sighed.

“Some are from Sarge’s camp, others were brought in with you and the rest were brought in one by one. Nobody talks, some of them aren’t even alive anymore but we’re left with their rotting corpses,” Sasha grimaced and Stiles shuffled himself so he was closer to her, close enough to see her outline, “someone always comes in to put a knife in the head of those that die, but other than that, we get nothing,”

“Food? Water?” Stiles questioned and Sasha shrugged.

“Sometimes, not often. It’s usually only enough to feed five people, not twenty-something, so we ration it all out pretty nicely,” Sasha told him and Stiles nodded.

“Why is everyone here?” Stiles asked.

“I’m assuming for the same reason I am. Disobeying Sarge,” Sasha shrugged. Stiles frowned and looked around the room at the people cast in the glow of Sasha’s eyes. Every one of the people Stiles could see looked gaunt and sickly, and Stiles could see some of those who had died. They were starting to rot, and all of them had hole’s in their heads preventing them from turning - thankfully.

“Wait, so if you’re a kitsune, you have fox fire right?” Stiles asked.

“Most of the time, but Sarge actually got lucky with recruiting a hunter. I’ve been drugged so all I can do is make my eyes glow,” She sighed, “and I think my aura is sleeping,”

“Sleeping?” Stiles questioned with furrowed brows.

“I can’t use my abilities, so my aura - I’m assuming you know what it is - is dormant. Sleeping,” Sasha deadpanned.

“Oh,” Stiles muttered.

It was then that the door to the room opened, casting a bright light over part of the room, making Stiles shield his eyes with his hands from the sudden change. Stiles couldn’t quite see who had stepped inside, but they grabbed him and harshly hauled him out of the room and into a bright hallway. Stiles grunted but didn’t have too much time to react as he was practically dragged to another room. The room he was taken to looked like an old boardroom, with a long table in the middle. Sarge sat at the head of the table while there were three others sitting sparsely around the sides. The men behind Stiles shoved him into the seat directly opposite Sarge. Stiles couldn’t help the glare that made its way onto his face.

“Well…let’s get down to business shall we?” Sarge grinned and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Where are we?” Stiles asked.

“You’re in my compound,” Sarge shrugged, “Took a few days to get it cleared and set up, but we’re running pretty smoothly since I was…forced out of my last accomodation,”

“You did that to yourself,” Stiles growled and Sarge gave him a look that Stiles couldn’t quite read, but it seemed to have a hint of amusement in it.

“I suppose so,” Sarge laughed, “Did you get my present? I’m assuming you did otherwise I don’t think you’d look so angry,”

“You’re an asshole and you deserve to die,” Stiles deadpanned. Sarge widened his eyes for comical effect and put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Were you trying to be threatening there?” Sarge questioned and Stiles’ nose twitched with annoyance.

“I’m going to kill you…” Stiles trailed off, his voice low and sounding more threatening thanbefore. Sarge just laughed, setting off the other three around the table to do the same.

“Do you ever smile?” Asked the woman who had held a gun to Stiles’ head back in Beacon Hills.

“I did before you guys came along and fucked everything up,” Stiles growled.

“It is what it is,” Sarge shrugged with a chuckle, “Let’s get back on track before someone does something unbelievably stupid,”

“Sure, why don’t you tell me what the hell you want from me?” Stiles grunted, “You clearly don’t want to kill, _which is a stupid decision really, _so why do you need me alive?”

“Simple. I want you to work for me, do what I ask and keep quiet,” Sarge told him and Stiles furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Or what?” Stiles asked and that was when Sage sent him the creepiest grin he could muster.

“Or I’ll kill the pretty redhead,” Sarge made a gesture with his hand and the men who had brought Stiles into the room opened another door and brought in a bound and gagged Lydia to sit on one of the chairs next to Stiles. Stiles took one look at her and anger surged through his veins.

“She was supposed to stay in Beacon Hills,” Stiles said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to grab a little incentive now, was I?” Sarge quirked and eyebrow, “A little birdie told me that you’ve known each other for most of your lives, and that you _in love_. Oh-no not going to pass up that opportunity!” Sarge grinned. Lydia watched Stiles with tears streaming down her face and Stiles could only watch her, a worried expression on his face.

“What do you want?” Stiles growled.

“We’re going to break you Stiles, _shatter _you, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Sarge said in a low voice, “Take him to holding,”

Stiles was grabbed from behind and forced out of the chair. He struggled but it was no use. He was pulled out of the room and he could only watch as Sarge walked over to the door and turned to Lydia before closing the door. The men brought Stiles to a small room situated in a narrow corridor. The room was bathed in pure darkness and there was a distinct stench of _something_ coming from inside. One man used a knife to cut the ropes around his hands and feet before pushing him forward into the room and closing the door behind him.

The room was small, barely four feet long and a similar size wide. He sat in a corner across from the small slit of light he could see from under the door, and brought his legs up to his chest. Nobody knew where the compound was, nobody could get to him. Stiles’ had a few options, but two out of three options were rooted in the two supernatural beings in the compound. Unfortunately, Lydia had been gagged and probably couldn’t scream her way out of it, and Sasha had been drugged. Just his luck. His third option was making a break for it when the door opens the next time, but he figured that would be a futile attempt as he was in their territory, not his. He wondered briefly as to how Sarge managed to get so many people on his side. So far, Stiles hadn’t recognised a single one of Sarge’s fighters, and that wasn’t a good thing.


	23. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! The end of the chapter will contain a mildly detailed torture scene

The mood in Beacon Hills was no better than the mood of Carson’s own group of people. She was lucky, they all were, once Sarge had made his point to Stiles, he let them go and left. Stiles with him. There were whispers from the residents, side-eyed glances and glares, all fo which were directed at anyone that Stiles brought with him. After all, it was their fault that Sarge even came to Beacon Hills. Carson wouldn’t deny it, it was true, but she, as well as many others, overestimated the town’s ability to fight when the time came. Unfortunately for them, the time came a little too early. The group of people with young children had left, making it out of Beacon Hills before shit hit the fan, but they were found and brought back. Carson remembered seeing the pure look of devastation on Scott’s face when he saw Malia and Allison in the crowd of people returning.

Carson walked through the town on her way to her post in the armoury. Sarge had stationed some of his people around the town, policing every move the residents made, making sure they all had jobs to do. Beacon Hills worked for Sarge, and the people that could stop it were either in captivity or not wanting to make things worse. Carson thought that made them cowards, the one’s that wouldn’t stand up to fight because of fear, but she was no worse. She wasn’t going to stand up and fight, risking her baby.

Carson smiled kindly at Rachael Hale, who was busy pulling the empty ammo boxes from the shelf and putting them aside. The others that worked in the armoury, a young man, barely out of his teens, and an older woman, all didn’t even give an ounce of attention to Carson’s arrival. Carson only sighed, and got to work reordering the rack of rifles.

“Hey,” Rachael muttered, moving over to stand next to Carson, “How’s everything…with the, you know,” She gestured vaguely to Carson’s stomach and Carson gave her a tight smile in return.

“Good…so far,” Carson replied but frowned, “What have you been hearing?” One thing Carson knew and appreciated about Rachael, was that she heard everything, watched everything. She was perceptive and curious but silent, using the information she could get when it mattered the most. As one of the only people willing to talk to Stiles’ group, Rachael decided to put her skill to use and figure out what Sarge’s group were doing.

“Hey!” Came a shout from the doorway, “No talking unless we talk to you, got it?” One of Sarge’s men was posted at the door, watching their every move. Carson hated it. Instead of replying, Carson rolled her eyes just as Rachael slipped her a piece of paper. Without looking at it, Carson stuffed it swiftly into her pocket and continued working.

That was what her day consisted of. Being watched and working. That was what everyone’s day seemed to consist of. Sarge’s people were relentless, and the town was crumbling because of it. Noah was no longer in charge of the town, having conceded in the face of an impossible situation, but Scott still acted as a spokesperson for the town. Scott would hear the demands of the residents, then relay it back to the head asshole in charge of looking after Beacon Hills while Sarge was away. Nine times out of ten the demands weren’t even given a second though, but they could only hope.

During the one hour of allowed time to break for lunch, Carson found herself accompanied by Tanvi and Henry, the group meeting at Rachael’s home - Derek Hale’s loft. Carson and the rest of the group had made some alliances with Stiles’ old friends during the recent times, all of them had a common enemy, and even though Carson had a hunter background, the wolves didn’t seem to care. It also helped that Derek’s loft was in a pretty secluded part of the walled-off town, so much so that there was maybe only one of Sarge’s men patrolling at any one time.

“Did you get anything?” Were the first words out of Tanvi’s mouth when the group met at the base of the building.

“Can we just get upstairs first?” Henry gave her a glance that said ‘calm down’.

They made their way upstairs, being ushered inside the top of the building by Derek. The loft was already filled with several people, all with the same goal. Carson saw Peter, in a rare display of domesticity, sitting on the couch and bouncing his granddaughter on his knee, Malia watching with a close eye but surprisingly content smile. Scott was talking with a tired looking Noah in the corner of the room, and Carson saw how much everything was taking a toll on the older man. Rachael was sitting with Derek and both seemed determined but relatively happy, and Chris was alone, sitting on the spiral stairs, watching the occupants of the room. Other residents of Beacon Hills, not too many but a sizeable amount, were standing around, waiting for what they were there to talk about.

“Where are the others?” Derek asked, looking up as the three approached the crowd.

“We figured we’d remove some suspicion by keeping a few of ours out of the loop. They’ll know when they need to, but for now plausible deniability,” Carson stated and Derek nodded in approval.

“Alright, let’s get started then,” Derek sighed and stood up, “So there’s been a lot of changes recently, and understandably they’re not great-“ Derek began but was cut off by a man in the crowd.

“And it’s all their fault!” He yelled, pointing at Carson, Tanvi and Henry.

“Hey!” Derek snapped, flashing blue eyes. Immediately the man backed down, “Admittedly, their arrival did draw a target to Beacon Hills, but we can’t just throw the blame onto them, in fact we shouldn’t be playing this game. We have a common enemy, and they’re right here in our backyard, so we need to figure out how to _stop this_ and get our town back!”

“We should fight them,” Malia stated, turning her eyes away from Peter and Allison, “We have people, we have resources,”

“We’re in no condition to fight,” Carson told her with narrowed eyes, “We tried that, look where it got us,”

“That was an ambush!” Scott walked into the middle of the room so all eyes were on him, “this would be a planned assault, we could get it done!”

“How would we get the weapons?” Peter piped up, head held high in curiosity, “we have those of us that reside on the supernatural plane, but the rest of you? They took our guns, they took our knives, they even took forks. They know we’d want to fight, so they took out the things that we could use, make us their lap dogs,”

“Then we use one of you!” Another resident of the town yelled, “Scott sees the guy in charge when we’ve got demands, he could wolf-out and kill him on the spot,” Carson saw how much this suggestion was conflicting to Scott. She heard from some of Stiles’ stories that Scott didn’t kill, but she could tell that the suggestion and the implication that he could end their imprisonment was getting Scott to consider it.

“He can’t,” Carson said firmly, “any other suggestions?” There was silence, and then their time was up. They broke the meeting and one by one, groups left the loft until it was just Carson, Tanvi, Henry and the Hale’s that occupied the loft.

“Jeremy’s suggestion might work,” Rachael said quietly once Scott had left.

“Scott won’t do it, you know that,” Peter stated and Derek nodded.

“We’ve had to do a lot of bad shit in this past year, one of the good things is that Scott’s kept his morality, he hasn’t compromised who he is, and that’s valuable,” Derek explained and Rachael sighed and nodded.

“Doesn’t mean someone else can’t do it,” Rachael looked to Peter and he raised his eyebrows.

“I’m no delegate,” Peter stated,

“We’ll talk it over later,” Derek said to Rachael, “You all should go back to work,” he looked back to the rest of the group and Carson nodded. Carson gave Rachael a glance as she left.

* * *

Stiles grunted as he was thrown to the ground. He got up slowly and faced the other man. The grin on his face was unsettling and Stiles had every intention to wipe it off his face until Sarge pushed his way between the two men.

“Now, now boys, be nice,” Sarge said. The other man rolled his eyes but Stiles kept a firm stare on him, “you should get back to work,” Sarge said directly to Stiles. Stiles said nothing but scoffed and turned away from the impending fight.

During the day he was able to roam, go about his duties and quietly observe. Sarge had put him to work sorting inventory wherever he was needed. During the night, he was thrown into that tiny dark room with obnoxiously loud white noise playing so he couldn’t sleep, and when he was able to leave, he was disoriented and his hearing wasn’t quite right.

Stiles never saw Sasha, he assumed she was still stuck in the room with the others, but he did see Lydia. She was constantly gagged with guards flanking her at every moment while she worked in cleaning the factory floor - because that’s what Sarge’s compound was really, it was a factory. It always made Stiles angry when he saw her, but the guards watching her every move didn’t permit any interaction past locking eyes when they passed each other in the hallway.

That was only the beginning though. At the end of the fifth day, instead of being taken back to the small room, he was taken somewhere else. It was dark and filthy, with one single hanging light that seemed to be near falling out of the ceiling. There was a metal bed frame leaning against the wall and a table with what looked like a device used in harsh electroshock therapy, and Stiles had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Next to it was a few tools, such as pliers and screwdrivers plus a few knives for good measure.

“Oh fuck this, fuck you,” Stiles snapped and struggled against the hold of the men at his sides.

“Get him up there!” Sarge’s voice cut through the struggle and Stiles turned back, not even caring at the fear that he held on his face. Sarge saw this, and smiled. The men pulled Stiles against the bed frame and used zip-ties to restrain him to it. “Let’s get this show on the road,” Sarge said and that was all that was needed. One of the men went to the table, took the cables from the device and pulled them over to Stiles’ temples. When they connected, Stiles couldn’t focus on the people or the device, all he could think about was _pain_.

Stiles tried to grit his teeth but his body lurched forward and stopped moving, his muscles seizing up with the shock. Stiles let out yell as sweat dripped down his forehead. His vision blurred and shook, and Stiles closed them as tight as possible in a futile effort to focus on something other than the pain. It felt like hours, but was merely seconds until the shocking stopped. Stiles was left panting and he wanted to pass out, but the men didn’t let him.

Almost immediately, a knife was picked up and Stiles didn’t even both to scream. He grunted in pain and discomfort, but compared to the shocking, it was nothing. The man in front of him - his torturer - ran the knife along his right mid ribs, not cutting too deep, but deep enough that Stiles figured he’d be getting a few more scars afterwards. The cutting was intense but quick, and after the ribs, the man moves to Stiles’ collar bone. The knife was pulled across the skin just above the collar bone and the wound was dragged all the way to the middle of his shoulder blade. It was a crude cut, but was luckily a little more shallow than the ones on his ribs.

After that, the knife was put down and Stiles felt a small ounce of relief, and his head started to drop as he felt darkness come over him. Instead, his torturer took the pliers and decided that Stiles’ fingernails were a good next victim. Stiles didn’t even know what hit him, he was ready to fall unconscious, but then his eyes were snapping open as he screamed in pain. His torturer had slowly taken the pliers to his index fingernail on his left hand, and as he pulled, Stiles started to feel tears fall down his cheeks.

“Damn…not so much of a hard ass now, are we?” Sarge paced in front of Stiles.

“Fuck…you…” Stiles cursed through gritted teeth and literal blood, sweat and tears.

“Well…I told you, Stiles, I told you that I was going to break you,” Sarge grinned and Stiles took in a shaky breath as his torturer finished with his fingernail. Sarge looked to the man and waved him off, “I got it from here,” the man nodded and left the room without so much as a glance back at his handiwork. “let’s see how _tough_ you are!”

Sarge said no more as he picked up a screwdriver and plunged it into a spot just above Stiles’ knee. Stiles jerked away from the pain and movement, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He felt defeated, and Sarge knew it. Stiles grunted and yelled through the pain but he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t move away and could barely speak through it all. Stiles slumped his head, ready to let the dark comforts of unconsciousness take him away, but Sarge wouldn’t let him.

The session was gruelling and painful and Stiles felt in that moment as if Sarge had won already. The echoes of his screams haunted the hallways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates guys, I'm back at college now so updates are going to be sparse until this fic's over. We're officially 3 chapters away from the end! So much is gonna happen, and I hope you guys like how all of it turns out as much as I do.
> 
> Some information:
> 
> I am working on a short tie-in comic. It'll probably be in black and white because I suck at colouring, and it won't really have a set time-period. It'll be quite a while before it's released though, so don't expect it anytime soon. When (and IF) it's released, I'll add another part to this collection and either have the pages show up themselves, or link you all to it via my Tumblr.
> 
> This will not be the only story in the series, I will do at least a second multi-chaptered fic, but I am also looking at doing a series of one-shots before that happens to connect the two stories. You'll find out more about those once this fic is finished.
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying it!


	24. Scheming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. I was going to update last weekend, but I had an emergency with my dog who unfortunately had to get put down. As you can imagine, I was a little overcome with grief for my best friend so I really didn't want to do anything. On top of that, Uni is a little demanding at the moment.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

The first time Lydia saw Stiles again was two days after they passed one another in the hallway. Her mouth was still gagged, and she was still shadowed by two of Sarge’s men, but she was otherwise okay. She supposed she could congratulate Sarge on being smart enough to figure out that her voice was one of the more dangerous things about her. Stiles, on the other hand, was not okay. He had fresh cuts and bruises on his face, arms and she could assume other parts of his body. There was one particularly nasty gash on his face, just under his eye, that was patched up haphazardly with two small strips of bandage when it really should’ve been stitched up. He walked with a severe limp and cradled his left arm close to his person. He looked defeated, like he’d given up, and Lydia couldn’t have that.

Stiles didn’t raise his eyes as he entered the storeroom where Lydia was working. He was shadowed by one of the nastier of Sarge’s crew, and he was pushed forward harshly when he wasn’t walking fast enough. Lydia tried to catch his attention by tapping her nails on one of the storage shelves, but one of her own shadows grabbed her by the hair and forced her away from the shelf.

“Keep working,” he hissed in her ear. Lydia grunted, but it was muffled by the gag.

Stiles glanced up briefly and Lydia caught his eye for only a moment, and she nearly gasped at what she saw. His eyes were empty of everything but pain, there was no fight in them like she’d seen before, and there was no light that she had glimpsed since they’d seen each other again. She briefly wondered what it was that took all of that out of him, but the marks of torture seemed like a clear enough clue. God help Sarge when they get free, if Stiles didn’t get him, _she _would.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia watched as Stiles made his way to the back room, before disappearing from her sight. She assumed she wouldn’t see him again for a while, so she turned back and put her focus on what she was made to do. All she wanted to do was scream, burst the ear-drums of her shadows and crush their throats. All she wanted to do was escape, grab Stiles and run. She wanted to, but she couldn’t, and that made her angry. It had been a long time since she couldn’t control what it was that she was doing, and she felt trapped.

Lydia bent down to grab a box of what looked to be medication off the floor, and she put the box on a neighbouring table as she began to sort through the contents. Inside was a mix of medication and what looked to be products a hunter would use. Her eyes widened as she picked up a jar of mountain ash, and a case of wolfsbane bullets. She couldn’t understand why Sarge would want such items, but she figured that they’d be useful eventually. A loud crash sounded from the back room where Stiles was, and Lydia’s shadows both turned their eyes towards the door.

“Stay here,” one of them said to the other. Before he turned back to her, Lydia quickly pocketed three of the wolfsbane bullets and quickly closed the case to put it on the shelf.

“Get back to work,” the lone man guarding her snapped as he turned back to her.

Lydia went back as if nothing had happened, but she stopped when her other shadow returned holding Stiles’ arms behind his back harshly in a police grip, Stiles himself having a bloodied nose but almost manic expression on his face.

“He killed Victor,” the man stated with a frown, “Snapped his neck clean. Kid’s a fighter,” As he spoke, Lydia looked to Stiles who smirked and winked. Lydia narrowed her eyes but gave him a subtle nod in return.

“Take him to Sarge…I’ll clean up his mess,” Lydia’s other shadow said before moving towards the back room.

“You better stay right here,” The man growled at her, and Lydia nodded. On his way out with Stiles, a slip of paper fell out of Stiles’ pocket. Lydia quickly went down to grab it and she opened it quickly.

_‘Switch medication that stops shift. They have a kitsune.’_

Lydia pocketed the note and began shuffling items around in the box of medication and hunter items. Most of what she found were antibiotics and ibuprofen, little things that could help the doctor on-site, but she did find an unmarked vial of liquid that would have to be injected. The vial held clear liquid, and the smell itself brought Lydia back to stepping into Deaton’s clinic for the first time. Lydia’s eyes lightened as she picked up another vial, this one was an identical vial with a label that said ‘saline’. Lydia grabbed two syringes, and begun the process of switching the contents.

* * *

Stiles’ eyes were dead but the determination in them was newfound. He had taken the opportunity in being alone with Victor, his guard, and struck. It wasn’t really much of anything, more an act of rebellion, but he had noticed Lydia restocking the storeroom shelves, and he had slipped her the note. He had been meaning to either give it to anyone who was working inventory, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

He was taken to Sarge’s boardroom, being basically thrown down at the seat at the far end of the table, opposite Sarge who had two of his men at his immediate left and right. Sarge’s expression was a mixture of annoyed and impressed. Even with his injuries, Stiles managed to snap Victor’s neck, and Victor had a reputation. Sarge was still learning who Stiles was, but figured out quickly how resourceful he could be.

“I didn’t expect you in here so soon, yet I’m not surprised,” Sarge began and Lydia’s other guard left the room, likely to return to her side.

“Yeah, well, I tend to act up around authority figures,” Stiles retorted, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m impressed,” Sarge said and Stiles raised his eyebrows, “but no bad deed goes unpunished, Stiles,” Stiles gritted his teeth and frowned.

“More torture?” Stiles guessed, but Sarge shook his head.

“No, I’m a bit more interested in some entertainment,” Sarge gestured to his men and they stood abruptly, moving to Stiles’ side immediately.

“Is this the fun kind of entertainment or the sleazy kind?” Stiles raised an eyebrow and Sarge chuckled.

“I think you might find it quite familiar,” Sarge made another hand motion and the men grabbed Stiles on either side, forcing him out of his chair before one of them let go to hit him over the head. The last thing Stiles registered was the blow before darkness overtook him.

Stiles figured it wasn’t long until her awoke, as he was laying slumped in what felt like sand. He sat up slowly, trying to gather his bearings but what he saw made his blood run cold. He was in a separate building to the factory, and he was sitting in what looked like a fighting ring. The sand was set up in a circle with posts around the edge, and makeshift bleachers lining the outside. People were trickling in to sit on the bleachers, a mix of workers and Sarge’s men. It seemed like in the ring, almost everyone was equal. Stiles even saw Lydia standing off to the side, still shadowed by her guards.

“Are you ready?” Sarge jogged up to him as Stiles got to his feet. Sarge’s grin made him uneasy and Stiles couldn’t tell if he was about to fight someone living or dead, because he was most certainly going to fight someone - or _something_.

“What is this?” Stiles hissed and Sarge laughed.

“Like I said, something familiar,” Sarge stated, “Take your seats everyone!” He yelled to the crowd, “the fun is about to begin!”

Sarge went to sit on the bleacher, the front row closest to the ground, and Stiles turned in a circle, unsure of what to do. He heard it first, though, the rattling of chains, the shuffling of feat and the groans, then he saw it. His heart started beating faster as two men were slowly brining in two zombies on chains. Stiles shuffled backwards as the zombies got closer to him, but they were stopped by their handlers attaching them to two of the posts surrounding the sandy ring.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Stiles yelled to Sarge, his eyes screaming rage, a far cry from the indifferent defeat he’d felt earlier.

“Any volunteers?” Sarge called out and suddenly a burly man was jumping into the ring, throwing his shift off as he landed.

“I’ve got this kid,” the man laughed and stood across from Stiles in the ring.

“You are to fight to the death, you can use anything within the ring to your advantage, that includes the undead,” Sarge yelled out, “go!”

Stiles didn’t have time to think, the other man lunged at him at full force, clearly not trained in any way, but was a brute by regular standards. Stiles jumped to the right as the man grabbed the air and quickly sent a kick to his groin. The man grunted but didn’t seem to react too much, and Stiles briefly wondered if he was a brute everywhere but where it mattered. Stiles didn’t think on that for too long as he was dodging flying fists. He tripped and fell backwards, his hands gripping the sand with a zombie clawing the air above him. The brute decided to punch Stiles’ face as much as he could while holding him down, Stiles having to take the punches without fighting back as he couldn’t. Each punch made Stiles see spots in his vision, and he was sure his face looked even more mangled.

The brute grinned manically and pulled Stiles up so he was nearly level with the zombie, and slowly moved him closer. Stiles let out a yell and grabbed the brute’s arms, twisted one of them enough for the brute to grunt a flinch, his grip loosening on Stiles’ shoulders, and Stiles broke free. He didn’t think when he shoved his foot into the brute’s lower back, forcing him forward into the zombie. The zombie seemed delighted in the treat and grabbed at the brute harshly, its fingers ripping through skin. The brute yelled out in pain as the zombie took a bite out of his shoulder, and then continued to chow on his face.

The screams were loud and the crowd shied away from the gruesome scene, but Stiles watched on, his expression indifferent. He rubbed his hand over his face and found he had a split lip and the wound under his eye had opened a bit more than it had before, the wound extending more than it had and was a little wider. His other eye was puffy and sore, his vision narrow from the swelling, and the wounds on his arms and shoulders were aching, but he was otherwise okay.

“Well…that lasted quicker than I expected,” Sarge announced once he was sure the brute was really dead, the zombie lazily pulling at his insides.

“Fuck you…” Stiles growled and Sarge grinned.

“Looks like we have a new fighter,” Sarge announced and the crowd cheered.

“What was the point of this?” Stiles yelled, dodging the hands of the zombie that seemed to be finished its meal.

“Entertainment!” Sarge stood in his seat and held his arms out around him, the crowd cheered, “do we have any more volunteers?” The room was silent and Sarge dropped his hands, suddenly nobody wanted to face Stiles after what he’d done to the brute, “nobody?”

“How about you step in the ring,” Stiles suggested and there was chatter amongst the crowd, “let your people see you in your full light, let them see the guy I saw back at the camp,” Sarge’s eyes narrowed and one of them twitched, as did his hands. He wasn’t wanting to do it, but soon a chant came from the crowd. They were chanting for him to step into the ring, for him to take Stiles’ offer.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Sarge stated and suddenly the crowd boo’d.

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” Stiles taunted and Sarge growled slightly, “are you that much of a coward that you’re not willing to even dance around a ring with me?” Stiles smirked as Sarge’s posture tensed.

“I’m no coward,” Sarge growled.

“Then show me. Step into the ring,” Stiles shrugged and the chanting started up once again.

“Fine. Let’s do this,” Sarge growled, taking a step forward.

* * *

The door opened to the dark room Sasha was being held in, letting in harsh lighting that caused everyone inside to shield their eyes away. A man stepped inside, armed with a flashlight that he turned on once the door closed again. Hands clawed at his legs and feet as he manoeuvred his way through the sea of people that were suffering. He came to a stop in front of Sasha and pulled a full syringe out of a pack at his side. Sasha said nothing as the man stuck the syringe into her neck, injecting the liquid inside.

Without a word, the man left the room, taking the light with him. Sasha sat in place as the darkness overtook the room once again, and was confused to find that she did not feel the usually tingling, yet numb, sensation that came with the injections. Armed with curiosity, Sasha held her hand out in front of her. She concentrated as hard as she could, and was excited to see small sparks of orange electricity dancing around her fingers. She snuffed out the fox fire and smiled.


	25. The End of The Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you guys are staying safe right now and keeping a distance from anyone you may encounter who isn't within your household. Even if your country isn't shutting down certain areas, or having as many restrictions, please stay safe and don't be stupid because you might survive through this virus, but your elderly parents, grandparents and infant children, cousins, etc. may not. Stay safe, stay in quarantine if you have to, keep to social distancing rules and don't hoard all the toilet paper and soap (and pasta. I love pasta)

The door opened, sending light into the room. A man stepped inside and Sasha crept back into the shadows. The man searched through the crowd of people, noticing a few who had died overnight and swiftly putting a knife through their heads, but he continued looking. He was holding a syringe, and Sasha knew he was looking for her. The man walked by where she was, and she struck. In an instant, Sasha’s eyes glowed a vibrant orange, sparks of fox fire coming off her body. The man twisted, ready to fight, but Sasha was quicker. With sharpened teeth and more power than she’d had in a while, she sent a bolt to the man, knocking him down. He groaned in confusion but Sasha stood above him and clamped her foot down on his neck, effectively killing him.

Sasha bent down and searched his person, grabbing his keys and his gun. She jogged to the door, ready to be free, but she cast her eye back at the others who were suffering in captivity. With a sigh, Sasha began to go around and free them, though there were some who were too weak to even stand. The others, though, flocked to her side and they left the room together.

There were guards down the hall that immediately pulled their weapons on the group approaching them, but Sasha’s eyes glowed and she menacingly charged her fox fire around her. The guards balked and the others rushed them at the hesitation. Without Sasha even having to lift a finger, the guards were down and the group was moving through the compound.

“What are you?” One girl asked Sasha. She looked like she was barely an adult, but her body was arched dangerously and her brown eyes had a suspicious tint of blue to them, catching the light.

“I’m a kitsune, and I want vengeance,” Sasha told her, flaring the orange in her eyes. The girl grinned and her eyes flashed blue, her teeth sharpening into fangs, “and you?” Sasha asked.

“I’m a werewolf, and I’m ready to burn this place to the ground,”

“Oh I like you,” Sasha chuckled, “i’m Sasha,”

“I know,” the girl nodded, “call me North,” Sasha nodded and smiled.

“What do we do now?” One of the men who had been in the room asked. Sasha looked towards the doorway of the hallway they were in a smiled, North smiling alongside her as if she’d understood exactly what Sasha was thinking.

“We’re going to take this fight to man in charge,” Sasha stated.

* * *

Sarge walked into the ring with a savage expression on his face. Stiles glanced over to Lydia, who eye’d him carefully, and he nodded, hoping she would understand what it was he wanted from her. Sarge pulled off any extra clothing layers, though he kept his shirt on, and stood across from Stiles. Stiles could barely see through his injuries, and was ready to take a rest and not another beating, but he was determined to finish this. Sarge had terrorised his friends, his family, and had killed people he loved like family.

“When you’re ready,” Stiles said, motioning vaguely to Sarge.

Stiles didn’t expect Sarge to strike first, and to strike hard. Sarge launched himself at Stiles, tackling him to the ground below the other zombie that hadn’t gotten a meal in the prior fight. Stiles was caught off guard and wasn’t able to block his face from the blows Sarge sent his way, which cause his vision to blur even more and his awareness to start to fade away. Stiles scrambled his hands to catch onto anything, clawing almost desperately at Sarge’s face until it felt like he’d caught an eye with his fingers. Sarge’s blows softened and eventually stopped, the man letting out a yell of pain just as Stiles kneed him in the groin, sending him back a foot.

Stiles got to his feet, though he swayed, and went to throw a punch. Sarge blocked his fist and grabbed his arm, twisting Stiles around so that he was facing the crowd, Sarge’s arms around his neck in a headlock. Sarge was seething in rage, his pupils small and eyes widened, bloodshot corners seemingly more red and one eye bloody where Stiles had grabbed. Sarge’s grip tightened and Stiles began to see spots. His legs kicked out every which way, his hands grasping at Sarge’s arms and fingers trying to become as close to claws as they could get, managing to dig into Sarge’s arm enough for the headlock to loosen slightly, but not enough. Within a second, Sarge had tightened his grip again and Stiles began gasping for air.

“L-Lyd-Lydia,” Stiles gasped out, Lydia stepped forward slightly into the front of the crowd, her shadows close on her heals, “sc-ream,” Lydia’s eyes widened, and she turned back to the men behind her. They towered over her, but she had to take the risk.

Lydia shoved herself away from the guards, enough so that she was practically in the ring. They moved to go after her but Lydia pulled off her gag and smirked. She pinpointed the exact moment when the guards’ blood ran cold. Lydia turned on her heel and sent an apologetic look to Stiles before she opened her mouth and screamed.

The windows shattered and everyone that wasn’t Lydia pulled their hands over their ears in an attempt to shield their ears from the ear-splitting screech that emitted from the Banshee’s mouth. Sarge fell to the ground, writhing in pain, and Stiles was thrown off to the side in the same state. Lydia moved closer to Sarge and began focussing the scream down so that only Sarge was affected. Blood was trickling from his ears, and Lydia smiled.

“Lydia look out!” Stiles yelled, but it was too late.

One of Lydia’s guard’s had gotten up behind her, the other one was on the floor, blood flowing from his ears, his eyes, his nose and his mouth, and he wasn’t moving - likely dead. The guard had grabbed a stray pipe and hit Lydia on the back of the head with it, sending her to the ground. He went to replace the gag in her mouth when a very weak and uncoordinated Stiles tackled him to the ground, grabbing the pipe and sending it with as much force as he could through the guard’s chest, killing him.

Sarge groaned and slowly got to his feet as Stiles went to Lydia’s side. Sarge looked over to the chained up zombie’s and began slowly moving that way. Stiles’ priority was Lydia, so he carefully cradled her in his arms and picked her up. He saw Sarge moving towards the zombie, but couldn’t find it in himself to care for that specific moment. Stiles, holding Lydia, went to set her down on one of the rows of bleachers, ready to go back to her once Sarge was finished.

Those that had occupied the bleachers to watch, had begun to move out of the building, those that were still okay after Lydia’s scream. They didn’t get too far, though, as the doors to the building burst open and a crowd of people made their way inside accompanied by an inhuman roar. Stiles fell to his knees, weak with laughter and grinned at Sasha who was leading the crowd. With glowing orange eyes and fox fire sparking off her body, she sent a bolt to the zombie Sarge was trying to free, charring it into black within seconds and sending it to the ground in a heap. Stiles watched the werewolf at Sasha’s side send a claw through the other zombie’s head.

“Are you okay?” Sasha asked, nodding to Stiles.

“Oh yeah, fantastic,” Stiles laughed, “so much better now,”

“You all should go back to the hole!” Sarge seethed, pulling his gun from his holster that he had discarded at the start of the round, “you’re making a futile effort!”  
“Does it look futile?” The werewolf asked, flaring blue eyes, “because I’m pretty sure we’re winning here,”

“Don’t get cocky, North,” Sasha warned and Stiles slowly rose to his feet. Lydia groaned from the bleachers and slowly rose to a sitting position, but Stiles had to be vigilant about the threat in front of him, Lydia could take care of herself when conscious.

“Get back to your cell,” a voice called from behind them, and Stiles quickly turned to find a sizeable amount of Sarge’s men standing at the doors to the building with their weapons raised. Lydia slowly moved to stand behind Stiles.

“Why don’t you make us!” A voice called from inside the crowd and one of Sarge’s men took a shot into the crowd, shooting the young man who had yelled out.

“Stop this!” Stiles growled, whirling back on Sarge, “this is madness, and you know it!”

“Who are you to tell me about madness?” Sarge raised an eyebrow, “_You_ started this,”

“No I didn’t! You brought my group into the camp, you gave me the creeps so I left, and in turn you killed my friends, leaving them to rot - literally - outside your fucking camp along with everyone inside who you didn’t decide to bring with you here,” Stiles yelled with a growl, “what are you getting out of this?”  
“Compliance, and a removal of threats. You are a threat, Sasha is a threat, your little Banshee friend there is a threat,” Sarge growled. He looked towards his men and yelled out, “kill them all!”

A fight erupted full of bullets, claws, fists and fox fire. Lydia sent out a concentrated scream into the crowd of enemies, sending several to the ground before she utilised the fighting abilities she’d picked up over the years to take charge into the fight. Sasha was sending large bolts of fox fire into the crowd where she could while also using a discarded gun, North was rushing into the crowd like most werewolves, and clawing at whoever shot at her. The rest of the crowd who were only human were fighting with their fists, and Stiles couldn’t tell who was winning. While Sarge’s side had firearms, Stiles’ side had supernatural.

Deciding to not concern himself with the large fight at hand, Stiles turned towards where Sarge was trying to slink away from the fight. Gripping a gun that had clattered to the floor by his feet, Stiles stalked his way towards his prey, briefing thinking that Peter would be proud of the predator Stiles had become. Sarge pushed himself out of a side door to the building and made his way outside, it was nearing night time and the light was a deep golden. The environment outside was dry. Dirt clung to the air like a virus and the grass was yellowed and dead. Bugs flew around the air and Stiles could hear cicada’s on the wind. The building itself was just off to the side of the main factory, both on the same plot of land.

Sarge scrambled and shuffled his feet, trying to get some distance between himself and the factory - and Stiles. Stiles, while also slow on his feet and injured heavily, was singularly focussed and moved as quick as he could towards Sarge, his knuckled turning white around his grip on the gun. Sarge slammed himself against one of the factory doors and frantically tried to open it, but he was struggling and that was exactly what Stiles needed.

“No point running, Sarge!” Stiles called after him. Sarge lifted his head in surprise and tried to open the door even faster, moving quickly once he was able to push the door open even slightly.

Stiles followed Sarge into the building and through separate rooms. It seemed Sarge was looking for something, and so Stiles kept him in his sights the entire time. It was when Sarge stopped in the middle of the main factory floor, the lighting shifting to a dark blue as the day turned to night, that Stiles knew that this was the final showdown. Stiles stood on the opposite side of the factory floor to Sarge, his gun still in his hand and his eyes narrowed entirely on his subject, while Sarge seemed almost frantic, gripping a shotgun he’d picked up off the floor as if it was his lifeline, and Stiles supposed it was.

“End of the line, Stiles,” Sarge told him, and Stiles grinned.

“Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing,” Stiles didn’t hesitate as he lifted his gun and shot, Sarge moving out of the way just in time. Stiles moved between support pillars of the factory as Sarge broke cover to shoot with his shotgun. Stiles was as silent as possible given his condition and moved only when he heard Sarge getting closer.

“What was it you told me? No point running?” Sarge said angrily as he shot at the pillar Stiles was behind, a stray fragment piercing Stiles’ right shoulder which was slightly outside of cover. Stiles hissed and grabbed his shoulder as he ran to the next pillar.

“I’m not running,” Stiles gasped out, “i’m being smart. There’s a difference between cowardice and strategy,”

“Maybe,” Sarge said as he shot again. When Stiles heard Sarge reloading, he broke cover and took as many shots at Sarge as he could. The man jumped out of the way, but Stiles swore he saw a shot go through Sarge’s abdomen.

“That looks nasty,” Stiles yelled as he fell into place behind another pillar.

“Lucky shot,” Sarge responded, and Stiles smiled as he could hear the breathlessness in his voice that came with pain.

“Sure,” Stiles agreed with a shrug as he checked the rounds in his gun. One shot left, “better make it count…” Stiles muttered.

Dashing around the pillars as fast as he could, Stiles got to a point where he could see Sarge behind cover, trying to quickly dress his wound as much as he could during the middle of their gun battle. Stiles took a deep breath and aimed his gun at a spot in Sarge’s back that would hopefully exit out the front, as close to his heart as Stiles could get. Without so much as a second thought, Stiles took the shot, and Sarge was on the ground in seconds, his blood sprayed onto the pillar he himself was hiding behind.

Stiles moved quickly over to stand over Sarge, throwing his useless gun away and picking up the shotgun Sarge had dropped. Sarge was breathing heavily with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and Stiles knew he’d won. Sarge stared at him in a mixture of defeat and anger. He tried to speak, but only groans came out of his mouth along with more blood, and he coughed, spluttering blood onto the ground.

“It’s over,” Stiles growled, bending down close to Sarge’s head, “you lost,” Sarge let out a sound akin to a laugh and then he coughed again, “you don’t get any more mercy, not from me, not from anyone. You’re doomed to spend the rest of you miserable existence walking around the Earth as a decaying corpse,” Stiles stood back up and took a few steps back, “good riddance,” he muttered with a grunt before he turned away.

Stiles made his way back to the arena building, coming face to face with a finished battle that he’d walked away from. A large number from both sides were dead, luckily not including Lydia, though Stiles didn’t know whether or not to be relieved that Sasha was still alive. Those that were still alive from both sides were simply sitting on the ground amongst the fallen, neither fighting each other and neither talking.

“What is this?” Stiles asked with a frown and Lydia stood up to greet him.

“It’s over,” Lydia told him, “Is it _all_ over?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded and he looked to the group of people left standing, “There will be a place for all of you, if you want. A place with walls and homes, a place with power and running water and a place that is a community,”

“We’ll need to take it back,” Lydia said, “Sarge still has men there,”

“Something tells me they have it covered,” Stiles smiled.

* * *

Peter walked through the sheriff’s station escorted by one of Sarge’s men. He was playing innocent, or at least playing ignorance and compliance, so he walked in without making a scene and without lifting a claw or a single droplet of glowing blue entering his eyes. The man escorting him directed him to the sheriff’s office and Peter stepped in without making a sound. The man inside, sitting at Noah Stilinski’s desk, was the man currently in charge of maintaining Beacon Hills until Sarge returned. Peter recalled his name was Frank.

“Where’s McCall?” Frank raised an eyebrow.

“He couldn’t come, asked me to in his place,” Peter stated in his best ‘i’m being truthful’ voice and demeanour.

“Why?” Frank asked and Peter sighed.

“There’s a virus going around and some of your men decided to _not_ let you get sick,” Peter said and Frank narrowed his eyes.

“He’s a wolf, _you’re_ a wolf. None of you can get sick,” Frank pointed out and Peter shrugged.

“Oops, my bad,” Peter grinned, his teeth extending into fangs and his eyes glowing blue. Frank went to yell out but Peter thrust a clawed hand to his neck, effectively clawing out his throat. Frank gasped as much as he could and blood spurted through the office. Peter exited the office and when the other men tried to stop him, or shoot at him, Peter gave them the same fate as Frank, “it’s a fucking revolt, assholes,” Peter grinned as he tore through several men just to get to the front door of the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, its the second last and as you may be guessing, the end of the climax. The next chapter will be an epilogue and will be posted likely once again at the end of the week, next weekend, but since my university is closing it's doors and everything's moving to online next week, I may get more time to finish this for you all.
> 
> You guys might also notice I've added chapter titles now...


	26. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I gave in, here's the epilogue. it's literally pure Stydia Fluff lol

The gates of Beacon Hills opened upon their arrival. It almost felt as if it was happening in slow motion. There was a group of people piling up bodies into the back of a truck, likely ready to take them outside the walls, and Stiles smiled when he realised the bodies were all Sarge’s men. Noah came to great them, giving Stiles a bear hug which he returned with a laugh and a clap on the shoulder. Scott was there too, giving Stiles and Lydia each a hug. Others surrounded them in a crowd and Stiles skimmed over every face until he found his friends.

He embraced Carson with a laugh and a nod, whispering into her ear that it was done, that everything would be okay for a while. Carson cried into his shoulder and told him ‘thank you’. Stiles did the same with Henry, telling him that it was done and now he had time to mourn his daughter. Henry shook Stiles’ hand and said his thanks. Tanvi, Josh and Emma greeted him, each of them telling him that they were grateful he’d ended it, they just wished they got a piece of Sarge themselves. It was over, at least for the foreseeable future, so they all could rest, even if it was only for a few days.

“Who are they?” Noah asked, jerking a thumb towards those on both sides who had voluntarily made the jump to live in Beacon Hills.

“Some are from Sarge’s group, some are his victims,” Stiles said. He tapped Sasha on the shoulder, and pulled North into the group as well, North grabbing who Stiles assumed were her pack, “Scott,” Stiles turned to his best friend, “this is Sasha, a kitsune. She needs a second chance. She helped me, so I want you to help her, and this is North, a werewolf,” Stiles introduced, “North can introduce the rest of her friends, but these guys are all supernatural, and all of them need a pack,” Scott smiled and nodded.

“I’ll get you guys set up, but you’re all welcome to join my pack,” Scott tells them, flaring red eyes. Stiles looked back to his father.

“The rest of them need to be processed, and some might need to stay in holding for a while, but I’ll leave that up to you, hey dad?” Stiles said and Noah nodded.

“Whatever you say, kiddo. Glad to have you back,”

“Glad to be back!” Stiles grinned.

“Let’s get washed up,” Lydia muttered to Stiles, leading him towards the her house. Stiles complied, sending a wave behind his shoulder at the crowd who’d come to greet them.

When they got back to Lydia’s house, the two immediately went to the bathroom to clean up. Stiles took a shower, alone, while Lydia prepared what she’d need to clean Stiles’ wounds. Stiles let the water rush over him, the blood flowing off his body and down the drain. He hissed when the water hit some wounds, but he was mostly used to the pain. When he got out of the shower, Lydia sat him down on the edge of the bath and grabbed what she needed to clean his wounds. The bullet fragment in his shoulder was still there, unfortunately, so Lydia grabbed some sterilised tweezers and began to dig around.

“Ah-Shit!” Stiles cursed and Lydia laughed.

“Nearly done,” She told him. There was a flash of pain, and Lydia pulled out the tweezers, which was holding a small fragment.

“That…hurt more than it should’ve,” Stiles muttered.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Lydia teased and Stiles raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his lips.

“Do I look like a baby?” Stiles asked and Lydia shook her head.

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry, sir, absolutely not!” Lydia laughed and Stiles pulled her closer to him, never mind the blood, “I have to clean your wounds, you need a lot of stitches,” Lydia said and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Later,” he muttered, pulling her in for a kiss, “I love you,” Lydia licked her lips and smiled.

“I love you too, but I really have to stitch you up,” Lydia stated, removing herself from his arms. Stiles groaned.

“Mood killer,” he frowned and Lydia shook her head in amusement.

“_After_,” she clarified and Stiles perked up.

Lydia got to work cleaning Stiles’ wounds and then, eventually much to Stiles’ protest, stitching up what she could. His face was mangled and swollen, but at least the wound under his eye was stitched up. Lydia pushed Stiles out of the bathroom once she was done so she herself could have a shower and clean up. When Lydia reappeared out of the bathroom, she was drying her hair off in a towel while Stiles was lounging on her bed in sweatpants, shirt disregarded.

“Oh are you still looking for a _mood_?” Lydia asked, not-so-gracefully jumping on the bed next to Stiles.

“Maybe,” Stiles muttered and Lydia shook her head.

“I know I said after, but can we just lay here for a while?” Lydia asked and Stiles sighed but nodded, falling into place beside Lydia, both their heads next to the other on the pillows.

“Crazy few days,” Stiles said and Lydia frowned.

“Can we not talk about them like it was just a regular day for us?” Lydia’s voice was small and Stiles instantly felt guilty. He went to embrace Lydia and she felt so small in his arms.

“I’m sorry…I guess I just forget sometimes that you weren’t out there with us when stuff like that _did_ actually happen more regularly,” Stiles muttered and Lydia nodded, “It was crazy, and horrible, and painful and I never want to see you in that state again,”

“I never want to see _you_ like that again,” Lydia replied, pulling away so she could look Stiles straight in the eyes, “you looked so…defeated…it was so hard to watch without being able to say a single word,”

“Oh, Lyds…I’m so sorry,” Stiles sighed and gave her a small kiss on the forehead, “I’ll always be okay, you know that right?”

“No, I don’t,” Lydia sighed and sat up so her head was resting against the wall the bed was sitting against, Stiles copied her position and sat up himself, “you won’t always be okay, you’re not okay _now_. Stiles, you just got out of being tortured daily and used for sport, that’s not something you _should_ be okay with,”

“I know,” Stiles sighed, “and I’m not, but I will be, because I have you, Scott, my Dad and everyone else I’ve collected on my way here, I’ve got people now,”

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to be okay around me,” Lydia told Stiles with sincere eyes, “and I don’t have to be okay around you,”

“I know that,” Stiles gave her a tight but loving smile and slowly pulled her in for a tender kiss, “we’re a little fucked up at the moment, but we’ll be okay eventually as long as we have each other, right? That’s how that goes isn’t it?” Stiles waited for only a second, a serious look on his face before he burst out laughing and Lydia laughed with him.

“Oh that was so sappy, even for you Stilinski,” Lydia smacked him playfully on his non-injured arm and Stiles feigned hurt.

“Ow, okay, I get it,” Stiles said while smiling, “this is nice,” he added, “it’s been a while since I’ve felt like this,”

“Me too,” Lydia smile and she and Stiles fell back into place beside each other, laying on the bed, “I wanted to ask if you’d consider staying here, with me, permanently?” Lydia turned to face Stiles and saw the slightly surprised but happy look on his face.

“You mean like…moving in?” Stiles asked and Lydia nodded.

“I know you wanted to stay close to your friends, but I think everyone’s settling in quite nicely here, and you actually get to stay inside the walls for an extended period of time, so why not?” Lydia sounded nervous and was wringing her hands a little under the edge of her pillow, so Stiles grabbed them gently.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles responded with a cheeky grin, “i’ll move in with you,” Lydia froze slightly but smiled.

“Oh! I didn’t actually think you’d say yes,”

“Seriously?” Stiles laughed, “i’ve only been in love with you since like third grade, and I pined and _entire year_ of the apocalypse for you, of course I’m going to say yes,” Lydia laughed with Stiles before they fell into a comfortable silence.

At least for a little while, everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you guys subscribe to the series itself; World Undead, so that you can get the next part when it comes out. I'll be doing a few one shots when I have the time in this verse, so keep an eye out and make sure you guys get the notifications! You guys are gonna love what comes next, so here's a sneak peak of the first one shot's plot:
> 
> It's four years after Stiles and his group made it to Beacon Hills for good. Things are going strong in the community, farms are being planted and tended to, children are lively and there's actual structure to the community more so than ever. Scott tasks Stiles and a group of people he deems fit, to go out and find more people, and hopefully more communities. As a representative of the people, Scott aims to bring more people to Beacon Hills to make it a substantial community, and to hopefully find other places like it to give the residents hope of a new world.


	27. First One Shot is up!

Hey everyone! Hope you guys enjoyed this story. I'm here to tell you all that the first one shot in this series is up, so go give it a look! I'll be doing a one shot every few weeks, so whenever I get time, and I'll be simultaneously figuring out what to do for the second multi-chaptered story in this fic. If you want you can leave suggestions below of what you want to see that I didn't include in this fic, and what you want to see going forward. I want to really engage with you guys and implement any ideas I think will fit if you guys decide you want to leave a suggestion.

Enjoy the next part, and I'll see you all in a few weeks when one shot #2 is out.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to subscribe to get updates! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


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